the little fox
by blacksbear
Summary: Hermione Jean Granger had a million problems, but none of them compared to the one called Sirius Orion Black. Marauder's Era AU.
1. Chapter 1

_Part I: Year One._

It didn't take long for the world to realize Hermione Jean Granger was a special child. Ever since she was a baby, things would get displaced or even disappear. Her parents did their best not to pressure her and find out how she was doing it, but the people at school weren't as kind and patient.

Even if the bushy hair wasn't already an excuse, she became a quick target for most bullies, who mocked and teased her repeatedly. They were never specific as to why they did so. Was it the hair, her alarmingly amount of books and knowledge, or her freakish powers?

Needless to say, Hermione had been having a hard time. Things changed. For better or for worse, no one knew. Still, they changed when a stern looking woman, with a Scottish accent they'd never encountered before, came into their house to give her parents her Hogwarts letter.

Apparently, Hermione wasn't a freak. No, she was just a witch. As if that made things sound any better. The little girl still didn't mind. No, she continued to anticipate the arrival of September 1st, 1971.

That day, she dragged her parents inside a wall and came to find the platform 9 3/4. Hermione let her parents come to terms with the fact that it would be the last time they'll be seeing her until Christmas. Of course, a lot of tears were shed and instructions of taking care of her teeth were given. _No matter what wizarding candy it is, brush your teeth after._

She'd read books on wizarding families and she knew there were people like her. She wasn't the only one with muggle parents. The problem was that most came from at least one magical parent, or both. Hermione had already learned she was a muggleborn, but sitting down in her compartment all by herself settled a kind of uneasiness in her gut. There were going to be kids who grew up with magic and other magical kids. She feared she'd once again be alone.

Refusing herself to brood, she took out _Hogwarts: A History_ and started reading. A good book could always put her in a good mood. That was what she believed until two boys slid the door open and sauntered in. Trying to hide her scowl over the noise they were making, she straightened in her seat and looked at them.

There stood two boys with the same black coloured hair, but still different in many ways. On the left stood a boy whose messy hair locks could rival hers. He wore round glasses in front of his hazel eyes, which crinkled thanks to the smile he wore when he immediately put his hand forward for her to shake. Of course, she took it and murmured, "Hermione Granger."

She soon found out his name was James Potter.

The boy on the right though wore no glasses. He had long shaggy hair and his silver eyes met her caramel ones right as he took her hand to place a kiss on it. He introduced himself first, mostly due to her taking the time to get over his unusual act. Wizards were _definitely_ a different kind. He turned out to be Sirius Black, the _III_. The last part, she didn't want to know but got to hear regardless. She quickly told him her name and forced him to let go of her hand, much to his dismay.

The boys sat down in front of her and started asking immediate questions about a game called Quidditch. She was hesitant to tell them about being muggleborn but did it anyways because she was _not_ going to hide how proud she was of her parentage, muggle or not. Sirius picked up the uneasiness right away and assured her that they didn't mind and would never call her _that_ name. For once, Hermione didn't know what they were talking about, but eagerly accepted their offer of teaching her about the game.

She confessed she had a fear of heights and wasn't sure she'd want to fly on a broom. James gave her an offended look before going on a proper explanation as to why it was _completely_ safe and they'd both make sure she falls in love with flying just like they did.

She didn't have the heart to refuse, so she let their excitement be. When talks about the Houses started being made, she told them she liked the idea of being a Gryffindor but might end up in Ravenclaw instead. Sirius also said the same thing but frowned when telling them about all his family being sorted in Slytherin. On the other hand, James was the only one who grew up with Gryffindor blood and he firmly believed that they'd all get sorted into their preferred house of lions.

Unfortunately, this was overheard by a couple of friends who were looking for their own seats somewhere in the train. "If you'd rather be brawny than brainy," the rather greasy haired looking boy had said. The boys were quick to retaliate and the redhead girl standing next to him had to drag him away. Though, that was after all three of them received a glare from her.

"What did _I_ do?" she'd exclaimed loudly and they merely snickered.

While the boys played Exploding Snap, she saw a tired looking boy standing in front of the door window. Hermione had asked if they were alright with inviting him in and when she got a shrug, she got up and gestured to join them. The sandy haired boy looked bewildered by her actions for a second before he slowly made his way in and sat next to her. James and Sirius asked right away what house he wanted to be in and he gave them the exact same answer she had.

When at the end of his explanation as to why he might end up in Ravenclaw, he mentioned her favourite book, she _knew_ they'd be close friends and if his bright smile after she showed it to him was anything to go by, Remus knew that too. That wasn't the end of her first journey on the train though. A slightly plump boy entered their compartment looking quite scared to be interrupting. The boys cheered for him when he agreed to play the game with them and _not_ talk about books. Remus and her both rolled their eyes at that.

Hermione got to use her first charm when James broke his glasses doing God—or Merlin—knows what. She ignored his horrified look when she pointed her wand in between his eyes and said, "_Oculus Reparo_." The boys gaped at her and insisted that she helped them with their pranks when time would come. She gnawed on her bottom lip, making a mental list on the pros and cons of helping them break numerous rules. It was the first time it truly felt like the beginning of a long and loyal friendship, and if Hermione was anything like the _most_ loyal person to have ever lived, she was going to say yes. And yes she did say.

Later, when the Marauders will be born, she will wonder what might've happened if she had said no. But of course, her boys immediately stopped that train of thought.

At the moment, she had a sorting to be done with. After getting off the train and having her new robes dripping because of the water, they all made their way inside the gigantic castle. She couldn't stop herself from explaining how the sky was enchanted and Remus gave her an enthusiastic nod. She also recognized the same Professor who had come to her house. She caught her eye and the older woman gave her a _really_ brief nod before she gathered all the first years and shut them up.

After agonizing moments of listening through a song and seeing Sirius already be sorted into Gryffindor, she sat under the weight of the Sorting Hat. Hermione barely had time to register the fact that it was _talking_ to her, before it screamed out the House name. She resisted the urge to gape at the audience watching her, and made her way to the tables. She had wanted to, but never did she think she'd actually be sorted in Gryffindor. The ones who already sat there cheered for her and gave her wide smiles. Ducking her head, she let her hair cover her reddening face and sat where Sirius had made space for her. He looked genuinely happy with them sharing the same colours and she was glad to say the same when the rest of the boys later joined them.

She separated from them when a Prefect led them up the enchanted stairs and showed her the girls' dorm. She recognized the redhead from earlier, who gave her a small smile. The other girls though were truly eager to learn about each other and she let them chat all night. Her worries over their next day's classes still haunted her head. It wasn't until the blonde girl, Marlene Mckinnon, reassured her with a suffocating hug that she slept peacefully.

Classes started and Hermione Granger slowly fell into a routine she planned on keeping for the next seven years. She would wake up to Marlene's radiating smile and grumpily make herself look presentable. She would then join Remus downstairs to head to breakfast. The others would join them later because waking up early sounded like a _sin _to them. Finally, they would all re-group and make their way to their classes.

She soon realized that the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was not as silly as it sounded on the first day.

Despite being recognized as a know-it-all at Hogwarts as well, she was also known as the brains behind the boys' pranks. This confused everyone at the castle greatly. How could someone who knows and _loves_ all rules help the greatest pranks come to life? It was due to her loyalty, which also slowly became the elephant in the room whenever Lily and Hermione talked. She had to keep her distance because the redhead _loathed_ her friends for bothering Snape's friends. Hermione would wear a tight expression because she knew firsthand what his Slytherin classmates really thought of muggleborns.

Still, Hermione would always scold her friends for targeting people. She told them that bullying was unacceptable and if they wanted to make people laugh around them, they had to make sure they weren't laughing _at_ someone. She knew she hit it too close to home when she ended up in a group hug after re-telling the awful stories of her previous school. Sirius even stopped teasing her bushy hair.

It was on Halloween, when Hermione was cornered by a Slytherin boy, who they had to sneak up under the invisibility cloak, to get him to leave her alone. The girl burst into tears and they begged her to let them still come up with _hilarious_ pranks for the snakes. She reluctantly agreed, but made them promise that they'd never do anything mean. Professor McGonagall still chastised them for it, no matter how funny and harmless their acts may be.

"I am tired of your _marauding _around," she told them, when they were caught in the middle of the night. James was quick to adopt the name Marauders for the group. Hermione believed it was something that their Transfiguration professor regretted immensely. _Oh, well_.

* * *

_Part II: Year Two._

That wasn't the only time she interacted with green and silver adoring students. After another awful encounter with Avery and Snape in second year, she let Madam Pomfrey shrink her teeth to the normal size she always wanted.

"_Hermione!" she heard James yell from across the bed. _

_She watched her best friends stumble on their steps and scramble towards her. They all sported concerned looks and her heart melted at the sight. She hated worrying them and was suddenly embarrassed over changing a part of her. "What are you doing here?" she asked them._

_Sirius rolled his eyes. "We should be asking you that."_

"_It was some Slytherin." She didn't mention any names, knowing full well that they'd go after them and get into much worse trouble than they were used to. "They used Densaugeo on my teeth, so I had Madam Pomfrey shrink them to where I wanted," she explained, giving them a smile that showed her perfect smile. _

_Their eyes had widened comically and she made sure to recall their reaction whenever she wanted to have a good laugh._

* * *

_Part III: Year Three._

After that, a year passed by and she surprisingly went on a few Hogsmeade dates. Even Remus asked a couple of girls out, much to Peter's dismay, considering he turned out to be the only one without a girl.

The werewolf didn't go any further than a few kisses due to his "furry little problem." Hermione thought that was silly but he refused to listen so she let him be. She even joined him sometimes when Sirius left Three Broomsticks to snog a random Ravenclaw and James was busy confessing his love for Lily Evans.

How _that_ came to be, Hermione did not know. If anything, she felt bad for her friend, who always got rejected and hit by an impressive hex.

It was obviously in their third year that they found out Remus' secret. Hermione was reading ahead for their DADA class and there was a section reserved for information on werewolves. Seeing his boggart just confirmed her suspicion and she eventually confronted him in their dorm with the boys. He had paled and grimaced, still refusing to say anything. They made sure to reassure him they could care less of him turning into something else for one night every month. He was doubtful initially, but they didn't stop insisting.

* * *

_Part IV: Year Four._

1974 was uneventful. If Hermione were to recall anything of importance that happened in her fourth year, she would say, "The Mysterious Disappearance of Her Bushy Hair." Lack of creativity aside, it _was _quite dramatic, though truthful. Her hair ended up transforming into something blissfully much better than just a frizzy bush. Her curls softened and her growth spurt allowed her to show them off, along with her newly discovered curves. It was in moments like this that she loved being young and her only worries being about her future O.W.L.s.

She no longer had to use a disturbing amount of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion and she happily gave her collection to James, who glared at her and at the amused looks the boys sent him.

* * *

_Part V: Year Five._

It was when they succeeded in becoming an Animagus in fifth year, that Remus Lupin realized how much they cared for him.

They _hated_ seeing him all by himself in the Hospital Wing. His body always sported new scars Moony inflicted upon himself. Thankfully, the four of them exceeded in Transfiguration and it took them only about five months to turn into the stag, rat, dog and fox they came to be.

Hermione feared Remus was going to pass out of shock when they all entered the Shrieking Shack through the passage and turned in front of him. Again, it took him time to accept the risk they had taken for the boy. Of course, he came around. They were his best friends after all. Their fifth year symbolized the birth of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs and Madame Vulpy.

Moony and Vulpy obviously rhymed to reflect how close the two were. Outsiders said they were as connected to the hip as were James and Sirius to each other. Perhaps, that was why things turned out to be the way they did with Peter. Though, she would get to that later . . .

* * *

_Part VI: Year Six._

It was at the beginning of sixth year that things started changing. Sirius had been blasted off his family tapestry and he'd officially moved in with the Potter's. James insisted that Hermione came as well.

"_You're my sister and my parents practically call you their daughter," he explained with pleading eyes. _

_She opened her mouth to ask what he was going to do about her actual parents, but was stopped when Sirius whined, "I thought I was your brother." _

_James rolled his eyes at him. "You can both be my siblings." _

_The cup of tea he was holding dropped and a terrified look marred his face. Ignoring the knowing gaze everyone sported, he stumbled on his words and yelled a final, "No!"_

_Hermione just continued to spread butter on her toast, blissfully ignoring her two best friends._

Sirius and Hermione had a different kind of friendship. Their banters were known to everyone, even Headmaster Dumbledore.

He loved riling her up for some stupid reason that she would love to loath as much as she hated his behaviour. They always ignored the warning looks they got from the boys and ended up saying things that shouldn't be said. Apologies would then be exchanged and Sirius would sling his arm around Hermione's shoulders as if nothing had happened. She would then roll her eyes and kiss him on the cheek just like she did with the rest of her best friends. Of course, he wasn't treated like he was special. Why would he be?

There were special boys like Gideon Prewett and Edgar Bones, who she had liked and dated briefly. For some reason, relationships never seemed to last for her but she didn't mind. She preferred focusing on Prefect duties and her exams, especially considering they'd be getting tested for their N.E.W.T.s in the following year.

"You're too frigid," Sirius told her once. It was a few months later when he caught a glimpse of her marked neck that wiped that smug look of his off his face. After that, he started acting weirdly. Peter also changed. She couldn't exactly pinpoint what the difference was but he got _much_ more touchy than she was used to. He was an unusually nervous boy and Hermione always tried her best to listen to his worries and even tutor him in the library. Her hugs strangely helped his nerves disappear _instantly_.

It was when she bumped into Sirius in October that she found her answer. She had her hands stuck in her bag, in attempts of closing the zipper despite the flock of books it contained. Hermione failed to see the body she eventually slammed into. A strong pair of hands grabbed her waist and when she caught the familiar smell of leather and spearmint toothpaste, her head snapped up to look at Sirius. She didn't bother thanking him and instead asked, "Don't you have Divination right now?"

Still not moving his hands away, he smiled wickedly at her. "That's for me to know and for you to never find out," he said, faking a shudder.

She swatted his hands away and crossed her arms. "Do you have the map?" she questioned with a raised brow.

At his confused nod, she took out the map out of his robe's pocket and whispered, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good." She checked the corridors that lead to the Black Lake and when she confirmed them to be empty, she grabbed Sirius' hand and dragged him along, ignoring his protests.

.

He sighed and then sat down on the grass. Sirius Black was not one to think about girls. Girls were the ones daydreaming about him. How did he ever end up staring at the sky, with his best friend's voice replaying in his head, he did not know. Never did he think the phrase used on the map would sound so _sinfully pleasant_.

He obviously refused to voice it out loud. Instead, he tugged Hermione to sit between his legs so her back could lean against his chest. Her wild mass of curls tickled his chin, which was propped on her shoulders.

"I swear, you and Peter have started being extra touchy," she murmured and his hold on her tightened.

Peter, his lovely friend, had obviously started liking Hermione and a strange feeling in the gut had been following him since the end of their fifth year. He scoffed at the oblivious girl in his arms and wondered how the boys she previously dated ended up scoring her. Did they just bluntly confess that they liked her?

He didn't know what she even ever saw in them. Sirius considered himself to be _much_ better. Even if he were to be modest, he just knew how well his charms worked on girls. What he didn't know was why they never worked on Hermione. He blamed it on Padfoot _accidentally_ stepping on Vulpy's tail once. He still proudly wore the scar on his chest that he got for his mistake.

"He likes you," he told her, stating the obvious.

She laughed, the sound growing the furious hammer of his heart. "No, he doesn't."

It was only when he insisted that she believed him. "But I don't like him like that," she confessed.

Despite having her back on him, he could tell her expression was changing into a sad pitiful one. She had way too kind of a heart and he _lov_—adored her for it. _Yes_.

He grasped her shoulders and spun her around. Sirius instantly regretted his actions when he realized that she was practically close to straddling him. Ignoring _that_ fact, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to peer at him through her beautiful long eyelashes.

"It's alright if you don't like that way," he reassured her and himself as well. "He'll still be your friend no matter what."

A moment of silence passed and the corners of his lips tugged into a smirk as he looked at her cheeks reddening at the closeness.

If given the chance, he wanted to count each one of the freckles splattered across them.

Her breath tickled his face due to the proximity and he swallowed a lump when his canine senses breathed in the scent of roses and parchment. His eyes flickered to her plump, full lips and the tip of his tongue darted out to slip along his lower lip.

Her eyes followed the movement and she copied it, doing the same. He slowly leaned closer, praying to Merlin—and every mighty presence out there—that he'll finally get the chance to feel her lips against his like he'd been dreaming of for the past couple of years. He remembered being horrified at the thought. It was his best friend, for Godric's Sake!

His hand came up to cup her jaw and he leaned in more. He cherished how soft her tanned skin felt under his palm. Just as he was about to inch even closer, she blinked at him and instantly pulled back with wide eyes.

They were both breathing rapidly despite not having kissed at all and he resisted the urge to watch her chest rise, flaunting her assets. She broke through his thoughts when she stood up, detangling her limbs from his. Her cheeks reddened even more and she cleared her throat, though the dark glint in her eyes could still be seen. Thank Merlin for small favours. His ego wasn't _that_ hurt.

"Um. I think I should go. I have a Charms essay, you know—Wait, of course you know," she let out a short, strained laugh and he continued to watch in amusement.

"We're in the same class, right. You should finish it as well. I'm not helping you and Peter—Peter, oh _no_. Well, bye."

With that, she hurriedly left and his gaze followed the sway of her hips until she was gone. He leaned back and laid his head against his arms. Sixth year was _definitely _going to be interesting, he thought with a fond smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**September, 1976.**

"Hermione?"

She ignored his confused look and let him wrap an arm around her shoulders. After what happened earlier that afternoon, Hermione needed the presence of a boy she knew wouldn't break her heart. She was with the boy who always made sure she slept peacefully in the comfort of her bed, instead of the frigid chair at the library. She was with the same boy who threatened to hex any git that dared to make her cry.

She felt him tug his glasses up his nose and hid a smile at how much younger he looked when he did so.

"Wanna go to the kitchens?" he asked.

She gave him a nod and turned to face him, a wide smile breaking out. He would always understand her need of treacle tarts.

.

"So," he started, as they sat in a oh-so familiar room. She watched house elves prepare the feast for the evening, then meeting the gaze of her best friend. "What's up with you?" he asked.

Hermione gave him a silent shrug and picked on the dessert she'd once promised to die for. Realizing that he wasn't going to let her get away without a proper answer, she drew a breath.

"Alright. Say you have two really close friends. Said friends might like you, but you are _absolutely_ sure you don't like at least one of them."

"What about the other one?" he butted in.

She gave him a glare for interrupting and he raised his arms in surrender. "Like I was saying . . . You're sure you don't like one of them, but the other one—You're not so sure. It's like you've always known they were attractive, but suddenly you're acutely aware of how attractive - _attractive_ they actually are."

The thought of him brought the memories of the event rushing forward like a flowing stream and her face reddened. She rushed to continue, hoping James didn't notice the change in her expression. "Now, what do you do to make sure you're not going crazy and that their proximity isn't _absolutely_ unnerving?"

He gave her thoughtful look, his mouth pressing into a straight line as he pondered on the question. At least that's what she thought until he opened his bloody mouth. "Who is it?"

"Wh—I wasn't talking about myself."

"Ah. Yes, that's why it's so detailed and drool is pooling out of your mouth," he deadpanned.

She bit her lip but didn't argue. He _was_ right, minus the drool part, of course. "Fine, yes. James Potter knows me _so_ well," she grunted.

"It's not me, is it?" he asked, with wide eyes full of fake concern.

He snickered as a look of disgust took over her face. A short but comfortable silence descended upon them and she paused, liking her lips as she wondered if she should confess. Mentally agreeing with her conclusion that this _was_ her brother in any sense other than blood, she sighed and said, "It's Sirius and Peter."

"You _don't_ like Sirius and possibly like _Peter_?" he questioned, his brows arching high on his forehead in disbelief.

She slapped the back of his head and he let out a high pitched yelp. Hermione covered her face with her hands before murmuring, "It's the opposite."

"Ah."

"Yes, ah. I've become just like the rest of the girls," she told him, frustration laced in her voice.

James pulled her hands away and she blinked at him, surprised to see the unusually, serious look he was sporting. He shook his head and she arched a brow at him.

"You shouldn't be embarrassed for liking Padfoot. He's a handsome guy," he explained.

"That's the problem though," she moaned as she ran a finger through her curls. "He's handsome and I'm . . . okay."

He sighed. "You're not just okay. You're a beautiful girl, Hermione. Do you not see the amount of guys I have to threaten because of you?"

His eyes softened and he ruffled her hair, grinning when her eyes narrowed at him. "Trust me when I say that even if you _do_ end up liking Sirius one day, it will be once he chases after you, because I bet a billion galleons that by now he has realized you're one of a kind."

"Well, we did almost kiss . . ."

James pulled a face. "Okay. I didn't need to know _that_."

Her lips curled into a wry smile before they thinned again. He caught the change and asked, "What is it?"

"What about Peter?"

"He'll understand. There's plenty of fish in the sea."

"But no one like Lily?"

"But no one like Lily," he confirmed.

* * *

Hermione was _not_ prepared for this. James had called her through her two-way mirror and asked for her graceful presence because they had a surprise for her. She thought all was well when she strolled from across the common room to her friends' dorm.

All was _not_ well once she sat in between Peter and Sirius. The latter refused to wear a bloody shirt no matter how many times she told him to do so. He obviously did not know how hard it was for her not to lean in the warmth that radiated from his body. He had an arm wrapped around her shoulder and he talked as if nothing had happened earlier. As if they hadn't almost kissed!

Hermione refused to act any different, if he wasn't going to do so as well. She squared her shoulders and swallowed yet another shot of Firewhiskey down her throat. She didn't know what they were celebrating but she let them.

". . . so I told Evans that if she really wanted to be the one running her soft, delicate fingers through my hair, she should've just said so. Then she looked at me with those beautiful green eyes of hers and . . ."

James' voice blurred out and Hermione nearly spilled her glass, when Sirius inched closer to her ear and his breath fanned across a couple of stray curls. He tucked them in behind her ear and commented, "You're drinking a lot."

She turned to meet his gaze and was struck by the heat swimming in the depths of his eyes. She tried valiantly to fight back the urge to look at his lips and lost miserably. Hermione watched his tongue slip out between his plump lips and mentally complimented him for keeping them soft and not chapped like most boys. She wondered if they felt just as soft.

Her eyes flickered back to his own to give him a glare when she saw the corners of his lips tug into a knowing smirk. Realizing she still hadn't given him an answer, she swallowed audibly and dragged her eyes away.

"Pot calling the kettle black," she snipped.

"Oh, but I am a Black."

She felt him slowly drag his hand from her shoulders to her arm. He began to rub in an up and down motion, the friction of her long sleeve shirt long forgotten.

"Oi!" James' voice pulled both of their attention away from each other and they watched as their friend attempted to turn into Prongs.

Horrified, she jolted on her feet and ran to get his attention. She exhaled a breath before she convinced him that he would _not_ be able to turn back into himself, as he would be a drunk stag. Hermione didn't want to deal explaining what the animal was doing in the room, especially not to the Head of Gryffindor.

She forced him to get his arse to sleep and he complied much easier than she had expected. Remus and Peter soon followed, feeling exhausted over the ruckus they'd created.

Her head snapped back over her shoulders to see Sirius staring at her, his feet crossed in front of him and hands placed in the pockets of his jeans. Heat pooled in from head to toe when he gave her a charming smile and she muttered something along the lines of 'transferring to Beauxbatons' as she strolled past him and back to the safe walls of her own dorm.


	3. Chapter 3

**September, 1976.**

Hermione woke up groggy, feeling something wet swiped across her cheek. She let out a groan and sunk down further in her pillow, waving her hands around to catch whatever creature that was disturbing her sleep. It had to be a creature; no one else would dare to bother her sleep unless they wanted to be buried six feet under.

It was only when her fingers caught soft, long fur did she pay attention to the panting sound near her ear. She immediately sat up and knocked her head against the deck of her bed. She felt him shift on the bed and two legs came into view as she rubbed her forehead furiously. Hermione thought of showing him what her punch can do, but stopped herself. Alas, he _was _her friend and they were both hungover.

"Why are you here, Sirius?" she whispered fervently. She was thankful the curtains were drawn. Her roommates would have a fit for not being warned about _Sirius Black_ being in their room. She unconsciously started tugging her hand through her curls, knots slowly managing to dissolve. She could feel his eyes on her and when she turned to look at him, she froze.

He was sitting next to her, his body propped up on his elbows and strands of hair falling softly on his forehead as he carded his fingers through his hair. It infuriated her how utterly _gorgeous _he looked at the crack of dawn. Had he always looked so handsome? It surely didn't feel fair, she huffed mentally.

Hermione started, realizing she had been staring at him for a solid minute now. The corners of his lips tugged into a smirk as he looked at her and she scowled. He could continue looking good on her bed, she could care less. His gaze swept over her face and she shifted in her seat under the intense look. Clearing her throat, she gave him a pointed look.

Sirius let out a throaty chuckle, reminding her of how it was too early to be dealing with her friend. "Thought you might need one of my famous potions," he said with a wink, smile broadening as he tugged on one of her curls and it bounced back. His fascination for her hair was irrational but she didn't bother reminding him that.

Instead, she rolled her eyes. "And you couldn't wait until I joined you for breakfast, like we do every other time," she drawled with a half-exasperated, half-fond smile. Seemingly ignoring her remark, he hummed and tugged her close, holding her there with her side pressed into his warmth. Her body no longer felt tense, instead it was flooded by affection in her veins. She leaned into the embrace and shook her head in amusement.

"If you think you can distract me with one of your hugs, we have a problem," she mumbled.

"Don't worry, kitten. You can always come back for more than just one," he replied breezily, batting an absent-minded hand while smiling winningly again.

He tugged the blanket closer with the intention of wrapping it around the both of them, but she pushed it away. She rolled away first, before edging closer to the border of her bed. They were close enough that she could feel his breath, hot against her neck. Her hands slipped slightly as she hurried to move away and she felt the brief touch of lips on her jaw. Hermione heard his sharp intake of breath and shuddered slightly, scrambling to get off the bed before she did something she'd regret.

Her heartbeat pounded in her head—so loud that she could scarcely hear the rustling of covers as he got off the bed as well—but she ignored it. Instead, she focused on sporting a neutral expression. She was desperate enough to look for every memory of Severus Snape's blank face she had. He was the expert and she would learn. She pursed her lips and looked at him without the slightest raise of her brows.

A pair of grey eyes were pinned directly on her and he didn't seem too pleased at the lack of her reaction. She extended her hand, palm open to him and he gave her a confused look. She watched as realization dawned on him and he cleared his throat, also trying to hide how flustered he felt. She cajoled in amusement at the thought of a shy, timid Black and let out a snort.

Sirius raised a brow at her behaviour, sending a smattering of red across her cheeks. "Give me the potion," she reminded him.

He gave her a disappointed frown, scowling while his hand disappeared inside the pocket of his robes and emerged with a vial of sea blue liquid. Her eyes light up immediately at the sight of the end of her suffering and she snatched it away from him. She pulled out the cork and raised the edge of the glass to her lips, letting the potion bring her relief as she drank it.

She heard movement coming from Evans's bed and thought it was best if they both left, unless they wanted to face the wrath of the Prefect. Merlin knew what she would do if she found Hermione's best friend in the girl's dorm. She tugged on Sirius's hand, intertwining her fingers with his and dragged him out of the room, the soft sound of his footsteps following her own.

She finally let go of his hand once they settled on the velvet couch. The Common Room was empty, the only sound coming from the crackling fire. She chanced a glance up at Sirius and found that he was staring at her once again. She will _not _look away, she will _not _look away, she will _not_—

"You could thank me, you know," he muttered and she eyed him with surprise for finally talking. He was being oddly quiet this morning. Finally, the awkwardness she felt vanished and she welcomed the familiarity with open arms.

She allowed a mischievous smile to seep through. "Oh, how awful of me to forget. Thank you for saving me like always, my _Black _Knight!" she gushed in a fake solemnity.

A wide smile bloomed on his lips at the nickname. "Don't thank me, dear lady—"

"You literally _told me_ to thank you—"

"—no harm was done to _your_ Black Knight's handsome body," he said with a haughty tone. She punched his arm and he let out a bark of laughter, consequently making her laugh as well.

"If you are done flirting with my best friend, perhaps you could come up and tell Peter where you hid all of his socks."

She turned around her seat to find Remus looking at them with his arms crossed and a stern expression. She would've taken him more seriously had he not been sporting his messy bed hair at the moment. Hermione bit down a fond smile and focused on what he'd said. She jumped away from Sirius for the second time in twenty minutes and stood next to her other best friend.

"You!" she gasped in shock. "Honestly. Why would you do that?"

His expression twisted in irritation and muttered something under his breath. She felt Remus stiffen beside her and watched him look at Sirius intently, probably listening to what he was saying due to his heightened senses. Her eyes widened when his orbs flashed amber, indicating the presence of Moony. Her hand instantly met his arm and she squeezed him gently.

"Moony, calm down," she continued to whisper gently, in an attempt to bring her friend back. Remus shook his head and looked at her with a scrutinizing gaze. She eyed him with confusion before she let out a huff. Too much was happening and it was not even eight o'clock.

Deciding that trying to understand everything on her own would be a lost cause at the moment, she strode away and climbed up the stairs. Hermione approached Peter as she entered the dorm. He was sitting on the floor, both of his hands hidden under the sea of clothes inside his trunk. James was sitting by his side, his legs crossed and a hand clutching a few strands of hair. She eyed him appraisingly and he shook his head when he noticed her. At least, he wasn't part of this prank.

Peter glanced up at her and got over his shocked expression rather quickly, giving her a wobbly smile. She felt bad for the poor boy and made sure to give Sirius a fierce glare as he slipped into the room, followed by Remus.

"Hey, 'Mione. Have you seen my socks? I think Padfoot pulled a prank on me _again_," Peter said with a fallen expression.

"Again?"

Sirius huffed. "He's not a little child. Wormtail can handle a prank, can't you?"

Peter shrunk in his seat and she didn't give him a chance to reply, immediately asking Sirius with narrowed eyes, "Where are his socks?"

He gave her an tired look, sighing and nodding at Peter's bed. "Under the bed, stuck them with a Sticking Charm."

Remus kneeled down next to the bed and one by one, each sock went back to Peter.

"Of course, you would use this talent of yours in pranks instead of your studies," she muttered under her breath but he heard her regardless.

He let out a scoff and when he finally met her eyes, he narrowed his gaze at her. She felt the edge of hostility creeping in and grimaced, knowing well this would be the start of yet another one of their fights.

He glared at her, his jaw set. "_Of course_, you're too much of a swot to give more than a backhanded compliment."

"You really think that?" she asked in genuine disbelief. He'd never mentioned something like this before and she looked at him confusedly. "I've given you genuine compliments numerous times, you know."

"You have." His smile was bitter and cracked. "But not the ones that _matter_."

She grasped his elbow when he turned on his heel to leave, but she refused to let him do so. Their fights were fast and sharp. They never left before clearing things up and fear crept in at the thought of him being mad at her for longer than usual. It felt unusual; the tight, cold expression he wore while he looked at her.

"Then tell me which ones matter," she said, a curious note in her voice. The muscles of his arm tightened but she continued. "I never meant to make you feel like this. Sirius, you are . . . you are my _best friend_. I mean every compliment I give you."

He was looking at her with a rather calculating glint in his eye, before he shook his head in what seemed like defeat. Her wrist tingled when he grabbed it, but the feeling disappeared as soon as he rid of her hold on his elbow. She staggered slightly—no longer being able to lean onto the weight and warmth of his body—and watched dejectedly at his retreating back.


	4. Chapter 4

**September, 1976.**

"He's still not talking to you?"

The week was soon over and her friendship with Sirius had turned oddly fragile, especially in the eyes of others.

She turned to look at Remus, her lips pursed when she noticed a redhead's snort in the background. She didn't have time to deal with one more spitfire, so she ignored her.

Hermione gave her friend a stiff shake of her head. "Turns out even chocolate cake can't get me out of this."

"Well, it'd surely work for me," he said, an attempt at a joke that clearly failed when her lips thinned. He cleared his throat. "Right - er, perhaps he's waiting until tonight?"

Her brows furrowed and she gave him a questioning look. "Why? What's tonight?"

He looked far too smug for her liking, but _so_ pleased with himself that she couldn't complain about it. She'd been begging him to get out of his shell for six years now.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out _later_. We can't have you not knowing something, can we?" he replied with a cheeky grin.

"You, my friend, are getting way too confident," she muttered, throwing him an amused, yet pleased look. "Still, I'm glad your brain cells are finally absorbing good sense from mine."

"Eh, I'd say it's more of Padfoot's work, but—" he stopped when he caught her crestfallen look, and a deep frown marred his face.

"I know, sorry. I just feel . . . _uneasy_," she sighed heavily, leaning back and balancing herself on the chair's back legs.

He gave her an incredulous look. "Hermione - you two fight _all_ the time. Why are you taking this so differently?"

She paused, licking her lips as she thought of an answer. "Because—because he walked away, Remus. We don't do that, not until we get our shit fixed. That's the number _one _rule."

"You guys made rules for your fights?" he asked in amusement, grinning momentarily at the affronted look on her face.

"Yes," she said, giving him a tart look that should _clearly _indicate how stupid of a question that was. "And he broke it—meaning he's actually mad, and I don't know how to fix that without even knowing what I've even done!"

"Isn't it obvious?" he questioned, an uncomfortable look on his face—as if he were hiding something.

Her chair wobbled, before coming down on all four legs. "Remus," she hissed, a dangerous edge in her tone. "What have you been hiding this whole time, because I swear to God if—"

"Hey, now! I just just saying that, I was there—" he stopped to look at her carefully, "—and he was clearly frustrated at the backhanded compliments you give him."

There was a pause, and the silence stretched between them as she thought of what he'd just said. "But I do that just as much as he teases me. And it's not like I _never_ give serious—no pun intended, I'm serious, _fuck_—compliments, because I do! I always tell him how _nice _he is," she ended, throwing her hands up in the air with a huff.

Remus leaned forward, scooting to the edge of the table. "You don't give him the ones he—" he started to explain, but stopped when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Both looked behind, to find Evans standing there with arms crossed and thinned lips. The girl was looking at him solely, not sparing Hermione a single look.

"Remus, would you and your friend please quiet down? I agreed to joining you in the library so that we could study together, but surely not to listen to meaningless chatter."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but Remus cut her short. "I'm so sorry, Lily. I think we were just about to leave," he stood up, giving her a quick, pointed look. "Um, see you tomorrow?"

Evans gave him a nod, walking back to the table nearby. On the other hand, Remus grabbed her stuff, shoving it down her bag and doing the same with his own, before he grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the library.

Hermione wanted to give her roommate a right piece of her mind. She'd always treated her like shite and she'd assumed it was because she was a Marauder but—

"Why does she hate me for being a Marauder, but not _you_?" she asked, slightly hurt, and shot an irritable look behind her, even though the library was far gone.

Remus came to a halt and turned, eyeing her carefully. "Is that why you think she hates you?" he asked, frankly baffled.

When she said nothing, he let out a frustrated groan. _Frustrated_! As if she'd asked him to deal with this mess.

"Hermione," he started in a gentle tone, "you're so, _so _gullible, oblivious, innocent—"

"Okay, I get it," she snapped, her elbow driving into his gut.

He wasn't deterred. "—And pure. She doesn't _just _hate you for being our friend, she also hates you because you're first in _every_ class, that too while being a muggleborn like her."

_Huh_. She hadn't thought about that, but then again she'd always made sure to stay at the top by concentrating on her studies, rather than the people in class. Evans could've tried that a long time ago, instead of constantly moaning and grumbling about her.

"Alright, if I were second, I _might_ have disliked her a bit for that too, but certainly not for being a muggleborn," she scoffed, shaking her head in shock. "That's just Pureblood behaviour! Us, non-inbred muggleborns stand in solidarity."

"You're literally the only two in our House," he deadpanned and she scowled.

"Other Houses then," she finished flatly, rubbing her temples.

* * *

It'd been hours since any of the boys had talked to her, and she was starting to believe that perhaps, Sirius wasn't the only one mad at her. Of course, _let's pick a day and all seethe at Hermione for breathing!_ She hadn't felt this lonely since - well, since her elementary school years.

The children there had been absolutely awful—nothing compared to the Slytherins, of course—but _still_. She could still hear every mocking word spouted towards her; _know-it-all_, _bushy bookworm_, _freak, swot_. She visioned herself at recess, sitting under a tree with only the company of her most favourite book, given as a gift from her parents.

So when the sun went down and even _James _only shared a few words with her, she blinked back a few tears and climbed to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Her grip had been tight on the book, considering it almost her lifelong saviour, with every intention of slumping against the parapet and reading it.

Though, as she stepped to walk to the other side, she'd all but almost _dropped _it, when she saw the familiar jetblack hair in front of her.

Her heart froze for a second, somehow feeling a punch to the gut to watch his arms placed against the wall, on either side of the girl's head. The bronze in her tie shone lightly under the dark; loosely hanging over her neckline and she looked eager on doing the same to her companion's.

Hermione stood frozen on her spot, her eyes fixed on the couple snogging all too near the rail, where she'd been meaning to sit and read.

She had come close to deriding herself. What was she doing there, out of all places, holding close to her heart a book? The people at her old school had been right. After all, maybe she really was _just_ a bushy bookworm - minus the bush. _Thank God for small favours_, she muttered silently.

She was conflicted between clearing her throat and breaking them apart—Merlin, how did she even come to think that he _liked_ her—or just walking away. She'd have done the latter, had the girl not met her eyes and let out a gasp.

The couple broke apart, their loud breathing echoing through the room and all too soon, Sirius turned around and for the first time in what felt like years, molten silver eyes met chocolate brown. She was struck by the look of irritation that flashed across his face, and she swallowed thickly the lump in her throat.

She bit her tongue, letting out a light, strained laugh. "Sorry, I was coming here to—er, never mind—I'll leave you to it . . ."

Two sets of eyes dropped to look at the book she was holding. She bristled at the blonde and the _piteous _gaze of hers that looked up again. Hermione all but vanished her previous thoughts of self-deprecation. She didn't need pity. No, she should be proud of doing what she loved and she loved reading _much _more than whatever fuckery they were doing.

The Ravenclaw giggled, covering her red, swollen lips with her hands. "That's alright, sweets. Ginger, was it?"

Sirius let out a snort and her nostrils flared—she could feel the angry, scathing beat thrumming in her blood. _Asshole_.

"Granger," she corrected stiffly.

"Ah, yes. You two are friends, aren't you?"

Before she could reply, Sirius murmured, "Jenny, let's just get back to where we were."

Without looking back at Hermione once, he turned around and started kissing his way down to her neck. Not willing to stand there a moment longer, she brushed away from them, anger burning up her throat as she marched down the flight of stairs.

* * *

She'd spent over an hour in a place she knew all too well. Moaning Myrtle could be a bizarre, but good company. Mostly when you joined her as she cried, but still, Myrtle had become quite acquainted with Hermione over the course of her years at Hogwarts.

Soon, she found herself standing in front of Fat Lady's portrait, repressing the urge to slam her head against the wall. Her emotions had continued building up and if she could, she would've hexed the lady already.

"_Baubles_! Why aren't you letting me go inside?" she sputtered.

The old woman tutted, "Kids these days . . . no patience at all."

Hermione scowled, almost letting out an apology for her tone before she was interrupted by the pale woman, "Alright, alright. Honestly, I don't know why I helped those boys at all."

With her cryptic muttering, she swung her picture backward and Hermione finally moved to slip inside. It was when she finally looked at the crowd in front of her that she froze.

"Surprise!" they cheered and she gaped at them, not as remotely embarrassed as she should've been. Banners were everywhere, addressing her as the _Brightest Witch Of Their Age_ and wishing her a happy birthday.

A wide smile turned at her lips, feeling touched at the kind gesture. No one had ever tried so much to give her this much joy. As she blinked at unshed tears, Remus moved forward and she was swept into a bear-hug by him.

"I knew you'd forgotten that tomorrow is your birthday, Vulpy," she heard him say, his hands caressing her hair softly.

"I just—this was so nice of you. I can't . . ." she mumbled, her voice muffled against his shirt. Then, one by one, she was crushed into a group hug with James and Peter joining in.

James tugged her close, giving a smack on her forehead and ruffling her hair, curls getting frizzier as he did so. "We managed to leave Hermione Granger speechless!" he whooped, causing everyone in the room to cheer again and her cheeks to tinge red.

She buried her face as they huddled together, sighing deeply. They smelled like home; like an overpowering sense of happiness and content shooting through her. The whole group—still stuck in a hug—waddled to a corner, finally letting go of each other and breaking into laughter.

"I love you _so _much," she told them, an honest note bleeding into her voice.

"Hermione," James addressed her slowly, as if she were a five year old. "You can love us all you want, but _I _love you enough to buy you 75% of all the stars."

She arched a brow, a half-exasperated and half-fond smile on her face. "And what about the rest of 25%? Are you giving them to the boys?" she asked, moving her finger in between Remus and Peter, who looked just as curious.

"Oh no, the rest of the stars are for Lily," he corrected with a solemn expression. The duo groaned, while Hermione just shook her head in amusement.

"You know," she started, her voice all suddenly timid, "I had made up my mind that maybe, you were also mad at me - all of you."

Remus rolled his eyes dramatically, resembling a quite patronizing move. "For someone so bright, you can be really—"

"I dare you to continue that sentence," she threatened, half-rising from her seat with her wand drawn, prepared to stand in a mocking duel position.

Remus was about to do the same, when Peter abruptly asked, "Guys . . . where's Sirius?"

She sat down and stiffened, while James looked at her nervously. "I'm sure he's on his way."

"I don't think he'll come," she muttered, chuckling at the turn of events and looking down at her lap, recalling the meeting from earlier. For her, their encounter at the Black Lake had complicated things enough. For him, she wasn't sure anymore. What was going through his head?

Peter mumbled, "I think you might be wrong this time, 'Mione."

She looked up from her lap, brows furrowing slightly at the irked expressions on her friends' faces. They were all looking behind her, Hermione now craning her neck and following their gaze slowly, until she stopped and her eyes widened. Sirius had his arm around the Ravenclaw and he was whispering in her ear quietly, her cheeks continuing to redden.

The couple shuffled over to the couch and took a seat in front of her, an awkward silence settling upon them. It was ridiculous how effortlessly he was acting, like nothing had ever happened.

"You don't mind if Jenny is here, do you?" he asked her, after a couple of beats. She blinked, still wondering if he was even talking to her, his voice sounded just so - so weary. She pressed her lips together, barely holding in her temper as the words registered in. It had been five days—five bloody days of him being outright petty over a small fight—and the first thing he talked to her about was a fucking girl coming uninvited to _her _birthday party.

"No, it's fine." The words felt like they were stuck in her throat, but she forced them out. "She's welcome to stay."

He jerked a nod, his eyes staying on her, and she felt the urge to question him. What was the point of meeting her eyes now, when he'd previously been so keen on avoiding her? Still, she refrained herself and looked away, meeting the beautiful sight of Firewhiskey instead.

She grabbed the bottle and swung it to catch the drink in her mouth, feeling the burning liquid go down her throat. Her mind started to feel muddled, as she watched James stand up, grab Sirius's arm and excuse them away.

While they were standing much farther, she managed to catch him asking, "What the fuck are you playing at?"

And before the answer could come out, she stood as well, silently walking to the other side of the room and allowing the girls to whisk her away. Marlene looked at her, a searching gaze in her eyes before she gave a tentative smile. "Happy birthday?"

"Happy, indeed," she choked out. She still felt an odd, intense disappointment well up in her chest that she couldn't explain.


	5. Chapter 5

**Septmeber, 1976.**

Midnight struck soon after and by that time, most people had either ran off to their rooms or passed out on the number of couches in the Common Room. She'd been planning to go to sleep, when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

As Hermione whirled around, she found her eyes catching a not-so-subtle splash of red hair.

"Gideon?" she exclaimed in genuine surprise.

She hadn't seen him since the pending end of fifth year. They'd been at a Quidditch party when he broke it off with her, saying he wanted to focus on his coming seventh year.

Hermione hadn't managed to figure out _how_ she would've been such a distraction for him, but didn't argue. Sure, she wanted to eat gallons of ice cream and cry, but she had to focus on much more important matters - like exams and O.W.L.s.

She ate the ice cream _after_.

Gideon swallowed visibly, darting a hand through his short hair. He had cut it. She remembered when he used to lay his head in her lap and she would run her fingers through the long streaks.

"I thought I might try being the first one to wish you a happy birthday," he said tentatively, looking as though Hermione might bite his head off. Of course, she wasn't going to do that.

She _may_ have had violent thoughts after the breakup, but she'd realized it was probably for the better; no hard feelings for him.

Her face broke out in a small smile. "Thank you—er, how have you been?" she asked, realizing he was going to nowhere and an awkward silence was the last thing she wanted to deal with.

He shrugged, his wide shoulders slumping after a short second. He had visible bags under his eyes and perhaps — perhaps, he _had_ been right in deciding to focus on his last year. The scholar in her was proud of him.

"Been fine, I'd say. I just thought it was time I suggested being friends again, you know?" He swivelled on his left foot, ready to flee if she said anything threatening his bollocks, and Hermione found herself forcing her shoulders not to shake with laughter.

Smirking inwardly, she took her time. She pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at him slightly—just to see him already on his way to turn back around.

Her arms darted out to stop him, wrapping safely around his torso and pulling him into a hug. Truthfully—as she laughed silently and he joined in the mirth—she missed Gideon the most like a _friend_.

She could still remember how he, as a potential captain of the Quidditch team, had volunteered to teach her how to fly. That didn't go well, but their friendship grew beautifully.

His hands grasped her shoulders and he gently pulled her back, giving her a mock glare. "Watch it, or I might just take the offer back. Considering the way Sirius has been eyeing me, I'd say he would probably encourage you to make me go away."

Hermione scoffed, letting him drag her tired body to sit on a loveseat near the fireplace. Cups were littered all over the small coffee table and she knew the house elves will have to deal with a lot of work in the morning.

She set a reminder for her to clean some of the stuff up before going to sleep. Yes, she would do just that.

"I could care less about what he thinks!" she exclaimed, her arms crossed and cheeks puffed out with a tinge of red.

He eyed her carefully, mostly what looked like surprise. "You're still fighting?"

Her eyes goggled at that. "How do _you_ know about that?" she asked, frankly baffled.

He looked offended at the thought of him _not_ knowing about it — as if it were some sort of popular jock secret. "Hermione, you two are not exactly subtle with your fights."

"Yes, well. Then, you shouldn't be asking me about it, if you already know," she told him briskly. Hermione was the one who had fought with him; of course she'd know how the two of them were during the process.

"Right. Anyways — I didn't get you a present, but I know my invitation of friendship is just enough," he told her proudly, like he'd just given her the first copy of _Hogwarts: A History_. Now, _that_ would be better than their friendship.

"I see your ego has gotten bigger since we last talked," she rolled her eyes, a fond smile still playing on her lips.

"Among other things—"

She grabbed the pillow between the two and threw it at his head.

"—like my love for Slughorn!"

* * *

Hermione was awoken by the sound of constant, urgent tapping on the window. She let out a groan, sitting up on her elbows and eyeing her curtains with distaste.

She knew her head might just crack as she slid her curtain open to let in the bleak streaks of light. Shuffling on her feet, she put on her slippers and walked over to the large window and let in the persistent owl.

The bird dropped the package on her hands quickly, sitting on the ledge just barely as to take a rest. Hermione regretted not keeping some snacks in the room; the owl looked rather hungry.

"Wait here," she ordered quietly, moving away only once it tilted its head at her in submission. Without taking one look at the mirror, she slid out of her dorm and walked briskly to the staircase and then, to the boys' room.

Eyes roaming around the four beds, she set her gaze on Peter's and made her way to him, confident in being able to wake him up—even if just barely.

"Wormtail," she hissed, her hands shaking his shoulders lightly - then, very hard.

The boy peered at her shortly and his eyes widened, letting out - oh, for Merlin's sake - a _shriek_ at the sight of her!

She clutched his arms tightly, fixing her gaze at him—reassuring him that it's Hermione, not a monster with big hair. Once he hastily mumbled where his stash of bacon was, she rummaged through his drawer and took out a small piece.

With a winning smile, she turned around with every intention of going back to her room, feeding the owl and sleeping peacefully again.

Her eyes widened at the naked torso just a few inches away, raising them slightly to catch silver ones looking at her questioningly.

_Oh, no. _

She needed a plan. Why didn't she make a plan _before_ coming to the room where she knew he'd be sleeping? Remus would be so disappointed in her . . .

Making a swift turn around him, she managed a few steps towards the door before warm fingers wrapped around her wrist and stopped her. It was for the best, she thought, that she didn't have her wand with her. She would've been hurting him _very_ badly.

"What do you want?" she snapped as she turned around to see him standing before her with a nervous and apologetic look on his face. Then, he let out a sigh and hung his head heavily, like a deflated balloon.

What she wanted to deflate was his large ego.

Sirius nodded his head towards his bed and she followed his gaze before looking back at him with furrowed brows.

"Can we please talk?"

.

"I was an arse," he started and she resisted the urge to nod vehemently at that.

"Of course, you were," she said with _one_, firm nod.

"And I should explain that — well, it was immature of me. I was being a spoiled child wanting proper praise, and that doesn't excuse my behaviour for the past few days," he admitted with an evident look of shame.

Hermione searched his face for any lies, but found no sign. He looked a little nervous, but his eyes were trained on her, and his voice filled with as much honesty as she had ever heard from him.

Despite everything that had happened in the past few days, she couldn't very well blame just him alone.

Had she looked back at the numerous times she nagged him over his studies, she _might_ have cracked too.

"You were a douchebag," she still told him tartly, giving him a quick glare at the reminder of how he'd reacted to her on the Astronomy Tower. "I wanted to dump your arse in the trash bin near my old school and trust me, it does _not_ look inviting."

She wasn't going to say she spoke from personal experience. No, she was not.

"And if you talk to that Ravenclaw girl again, I'll make sure you don't get to use those lips of yours anymore! Always thinking you're so good at snogging everyone," she muttered angrily.

"Ah, there you are—always keeping me grounded," he replied cheekily, a wide grin overtaking his face with visible relief, and she looked at him daringly, waiting for him to say something he might regret.

"Oh, no. You don't get to use any snark, Sirius," she warned, stabbing her finger at his still naked chest.

He raised his hands in surrender, black locks of hair falling on his forehead and lips pursuing in a childish pout. "Whatever the birthday witch desires, I guess," he said defeatedly.

At mid-roll of her eyes, she let out a shocked gasp, remembering the poor, hungry owl she'd left waiting.

"Gotta go!" she yelped. Hermione got off the mattress, scrambling to pick up the fallen strip of bacon and ran back to her room — Remus's grumbling droning out in the background.

* * *

Hermione looked up from the book as soon as she found her piece of toast gone from the plate. They all looked strangely innocent—purposely not giving away any clues as to who might've stolen her buttery piece of breakfast from her.

"I'm hungry, I'm tired and I'm going to kill all of you unless you find me some food."

James hurried to hand her a toast—which appeared from out of nowhere, _how suspicious_—and added a convenient dessert on her plate.

"Marlene wouldn't treat me like this," she muttered angrily, her hand grabbing the treacle tart he'd given her.

The boy gave a silent shrug. "I guess - since it's your birthday."

"Yes, yes," she said, waving a dismissive hand at his words, though her eyes immediately went back to the book in her hands. A small smile spread at the best present she'd ever gotten from them.

"What's that?" Peter asked through a mouthful of food, and for once, Hermione let it go. She beamed at the question, finally having a chance to show off the contents.

"My parents have always given me a special book as a gift for my birthday," she explained cheerily, ignoring the flabbergasted look of the boys. "And this year, they gave me an album full of their pictures—I told them I didn't have enough memories of them when I'm here."

At that, they all perked up and demanded she showed them every single one of the pictures. Huffing - but feeling quite content at their curiosity - she gave them an exasperated smile.

"Eat first, then we can look at them somewhere more private."

Sirius slung an arm around her and leaned in close with a teasing smile. "And just _what_ kind of pictures are there, Hermione?"

"Clearly of my parents, and _not_ mine," she replied smoothly, not giving him a chance to tease her. Though, she visibly winced at what she'd said and they all caught it—well, maybe not Peter.

"What is it?" Remus asked, tilting his head.

"My parents are always sad about not having pictures of _me _for them to look at. I think they might've been passive aggressive when they sent this," she explained, sighing at the conclusion she'd come up with.

Him and James hummed thoughtfully, while Sirius continued to stare at her with a gleam in his eyes.

She squinted at him suspiciously and when he saw her accusatory look, he raised his hands in surrender and refused to say anything. He went back to eating like the dork he was.

.

"Is that chubby baby, you?" James laughed and she slapped his arm lightly. It _was_ Hermione, safely cradled by her mom as his dad continued to look at the pair lovingly.

Her lips quirked in a fond smile at the sight of her parents. They never quite got over their honeymoon phase, always loving each other as if they'd confessed their feelings to each other on the previous day.

It'd been so many years of marriage and yet, she'd grown up looking at the way the two dentists proved that love could be real and last for more decades than it probably should.

And while they had fights, they never lasted long, especially with her dad looking at his wife with such desperate eyes.

She sensed someone's eyes on her and found the boys all staring at her with a smile of their own playing on their lips.

"What?" she asked, wondering if she had something on her face.

Sirius shook his head—as if to clear it of his thoughts—and gave her a wicked grin. It was that look of his that said whatever was coming next was going to be infuriating at best.

"You haven't changed one bit," he said, pointing at the baby with his index finger.

Hermione pursed her lips and flipped him the finger—something she'd learned from the same boy. Laughter from all around her rang in her ears and she let the soft breeze run through her curls.

If she could, she would want to stay in the memory of this day forever.

* * *

A week later, Sirius opened the package he received during breakfast, revealing a brand new Wizarding camera. When he caught her eye, he gave her a sly smirk.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry I took so long to update! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter, and feel free to let me know what you think. I'm grateful for all the support this story has received so far.**


	6. Chapter 6

**October, 1976.**

She heard soft laughter from beside her and turned to face Marlene, who was failing miserably at keeping her smile hidden from her.

Hermione arched a brow at her, waiting patiently for her to stop and explain what was going on with her.

"I just—am I the only one seeing Sirius Black taking _pictures_ of you?"

A grin split her face and her eyes flickered to the desk in front of her, where both Sirius and James sat. His soft, black hair was full on view and she caught a glimpse of the camera hanging off his neck.

"Well, not at the moment," she answered offhandedly, smiling at the glare her friend shot her. Being the nice person she was, Hermione quickly added, "But yes, he has been taking pictures of me — for quite a while now. Marlene, did you _just_ notice?"

A huff left the blonde's lips and she said, "No, but I didn't expect it to go on for over a month."

Hermione shrugged, though a fond smile played at her lips at the reminder. Sirius _had_ been making use of the Wizarding camera, making sure to catch her off guard at the most random times — though, he always waved it off saying it was then, that she looked the most beautiful.

Bunch of hogwash if you asked her, but she let it go. Her best friend had listened to her ramble on about her parents and gone as far as buying a camera to keep them happy. She couldn't exactly be mad at him for that.

A sly smirk grew on Marlene's face and the first thing that came to her mind was _oh, no._ Whatever her roommate was thinking, it just couldn't be right.

"And you don't think that it's not just him being a friend?"

"Yes, you're overthinking it," she told her airily, despite her eyes going back to burning holes in Sirius's head. Was it really just his loyalty?

She shook her head, as though to clear it from those thoughts that quite frankly baffled her. The mess from September had already ruined enough time for her. The last thing she needed was to go back to having unreasonable thoughts about him having _romantic_ _feelings_.

The most love he probably felt was for pranks — and the _possible_ Christmas gift they were planning on getting him.

To avoid her best friend's twinkling, blue eyes, she proceeded to fix a stare at a spot on the blackboard, breaking contact only when she heard the distinct sound of footsteps.

Her brows rose in surprise as the DADA Professor entered the classroom with an unusual smile, excitement bubbling on his face.

Aiden _Crabapple_ had shown a fair range of emotions so far, primarily negative ones. She'd briefly considered asking Professor Dumbledore why he'd even hired someone like him.

He was a tall, scrawny man and looked normal enough, especially with a Pureblood last name like his. Honestly, not only did they marry their own cousins, those with purer blood also merged ridiculous names together.

No matter, he looked like a decent man, resembling many others that had taken up the cursed job post for only a year. He remained harmless only until you paid attention to his eyes. They looked like the bottom of a dark pit, rid of any soul; as if the last thing he wanted to do was to be in a classroom with a bunch of teenagers.

Their new Professor was in simple words, _moody_. Not only did he seem like a former Slytherin, he also favoured that House. It was absolutely horrible, considering sixth year Gryffindors shared the same class with them.

Ergo, she assumed that something Professor Crabapple would never do was _grin_. And he was doing exactly that. The day was getting stranger and stranger, she idly thought as she watched his expression twist in glee.

"As I'm sure you've already deduced, I will test you on your duelling skills today. Unlike what some of you may think, memorizing textbooks will _not _keep you alive in the real world," he jeered, and she stiffened when his eyes landed on her. She could hear snickers—from the Slytherin side mostly—but she ignored them.

She knew what he was doing. She couldn't outright accuse him of calling her a mudblood, but she always _felt_ him recoil in disgust whenever she asked a question. That did not stop her, however, just like numerous years of her being called a know-it-all didn't.

She stared at him defiantly and he eventually looked away, his lips thinning as he did so.

"I don't care what the rivalries are outside of this classroom. I will expect the utmost respect when you're paired off," he said in a non-committal tone.

At that, nasty delight appeared on everyone's faces and she sighed heavily. "_Of course_, dark curses are not allowed and inflicting serious injuries will lead you to detention."

"Now, _I_ will assign the names and _you_ will follow the instructions quietly."

Names were soon called, with him pairing each Gryffindor with a student from the opposing House. Hermione watched curiously as each pair made their way to stand on the far sides of the room, until her name was finally called.

"Hermione Granger and Marcus Mulciber."

She moved around the room, carefully surveying her opponent with pursed lips. She rolled her eyes at his smirk, almost grinning as it slipped right off.

She let her feet lead the way, until she stood facing the wizard. He'd moved much closer—managing to look down at her, making her curse her smaller height—but she didn't back away. Instead, she stood her ground and gripped her wand firmly.

Her gut tightened, taking in the stiff nod he headed her way, resembling more of a vile move than friendly.

She'd run into him numerous times, more than needed. While she always intended to use the map everytime she sneaked out at night, she'd _always_ managed to run into him.

She would have accused him of stalking her, if she hadn't known better. There was no way he would personally reach out to a _mudblood_.

Still, he'd teased her relentlessly over the years and she would have already thrown it right back at his face. That is, if she didn't know how vicious his reputation was.

Others may have, but she hadn't forgotten about Mary Macdonald being cornered by him and his friends. He was a cruel boy and she finally had the chance to prove him how powerful the lesser blood could be.

They walked away to put some distance in between, bowing to each other and eventually taking aim.

"_Protego_!" she casted just as he shouted, "_Stupefy_!"

The large shield protected her from the red Stunner. She then dodged a _Reducto_, managing to quietly mutter, "_Obscuro_."

She fought down a smile when his view became obstructed and he stumbled on the foot of his robe, making a poor aim of the _Confundo_ he'd managed to send her way.

"_Locomotor mortis_!" he then called, walking towards her. Hermione blocked his advance with a silent shield charm and countered the attack with a _Conjunctivitis_ Curse.

Her opponent keeled over, rubbing his eyes furiously and she took the chance to yell, "_Incarcerous_."

Ropes shot from her wand and they bound Mulciber, making him stumble on the ground while she added _Avis_ and _Oppugno_. He yelped in surprise as a flock of birds sped, advancing towards him and clawing the same hands he'd used to hurt Mary.

Before he could get out of the binding, she screamed a final _Expelliarmus _and caught his wand, twirling it winningly along with her own. When the ropes around the boy disappeared and he stood up with a glare, she approached him to give back his wand.

His hand immediately shot to grab it, barely touching her fingers when she felt a slicing hex follow against her hip.

"What the fuck?" she barked, clutching her side in pain. She looked around for the Professor, unable to catch a glimpse of him among the numerous spells going off around the room.

He leaned forwards and her teeth ground tightly as he whispered in her ear, "It's time you learn your place, Mudblood."

His eyes flashed dangerously and she put out her hands to push him away, stepping back and looking at him incredulously. Finally, she heard Professor Crabapple yell, "What is going on here?"

Blood was now staining her robe and her whole body tensed when the older man's eyes followed the crimson colour's stain. It couldn't be that surprising, could it? That her blood was nothing like the colour of _mud_.

Her lips parted a breath in disbelief and she started to limp towards him. "He just—" she started and wobbled unsteadily as a sharp pain kicked in, relatively close to her wound. Two firm hands were quick to grip her waist and she couldn't help but sigh in relief at the familiar scent of leather that surrounded her senses.

"I've got you," she heard Sirius murmur from behind, and she gave him a terse nod. She looked down at her fingertips, now lightly covered in colour and brought them up, close enough for the teacher to see.

"Mulciber did this, Professor. Should he not be getting detention?" she asked, gritting her teeth to momentarily shove the pain away. There was no way that she was going to let the boy get away with _everything_ he'd done.

After a brief silence, he finally cleared his throat and looked away from her hand, gaze flickering over her head instead. "Mr. Black, I assume you are more than willing to take her to the Hospital Wing?" he asked with a slight sneer.

"We would probably already be there, if you weren't daydreaming this whole time," Sirius threw back at him, getting ten points taken away for his cheek.

She took a deep breath, gripping the front of his robes when she turned around to face him. Giving him the fiercest look she could manage, she tugged at his collar and hissed, "Stop it and let's just go."

While she _desperately_ wanted to throw a quip at the Professor, she wanted to wait until she graduated. Or perhaps, until he left the job, but she really didn't want to _seek_ him out in the real world. A horrifying, totally _baseless_ thought popped in her head and she paled in fear.

For Merlin's sake, he couldn't be a Death Eater, could he?

* * *

Hermione found herself sitting on one of the beds Madam Pomfrey had set up for her, and she felt utterly bored. She was sure everyone were in Transfiguration, making her the only one who was missing her most favourite class.

Not only was it scheduled for before dinner—Hermione loved a good lesson before filling her stomach with nutrients—she also admired who taught the class. Despite Professor Mcgonagall's stern looks, she knew the older woman liked her - or, tolerated her more than the boys.

She could almost hear her wondering just what was Miss Granger doing with trouble makers like them? But the thing was that—while, she loved rules and thought of herself as the future Head Girl—she realized that perhaps, she was meant to be friends with people so _different_ from her.

And it wasn't as if the boys shared just one similar personality. No, each boy was also different from the other in a way.

James was a sweetheart, having his eyes set on only one girl and despite what he may believe, he did _okay_ with dealing with other people's emotions. Not the best, she thought as a brief memory of him finding her crying played in her head. She shuddered at the image of him looking lost and clueless as he sat next to her.

He was still her fond, sweet boy.

On the other hand, Remus was as level headed as she was. Of course, he would argue, saying that she was too _fierce_ to be as calm as him, but he had Moony to prove him wrong. Whatever he may say, the werewolf was a kind boy, while he also remained extremely loyal to his friends — no matter what they did.

Peter was - well, he was lovely . . . or so she thought, until he started acting differently! He used to be so patient with her when she tutored him, but now he either avoided her or stuck with her at all times. Still, she loved him dearly because he was just a little _lost_. Even she used to be like that, before she went to Hogwarts.

Sirius — he was _everything_. It was crazy now that she thought about it; how he could be annoying, adorable, loyal, funny, and an utter arse. He was reckless and never sat back to think before doing irrational things, and she put it down to being a Black. He could be so distant and broody at times, but be affectionate the next second.

Clearly, they each had a place in her heart, and a tightness caught in her chest as she thought again about their Professor. Was it possible that, among the students, the Headmaster could hire a Death Eater, of all people?

Hermione had no basis for such an accusation, and even if he _was_ a follower of You-Know-Who, she was sure that Professor Dumbledore wasn't aware of it. There was just no other way.

* * *

Peering at the Marauder's Map in her hands, she looked over her friends' names, who were sitting in the Great Hall just as she suspected. She almost folded it away until a movement caught her attention and her eyes widened when she noticed Professor Crabapple heading towards the entrance.

Making a rash decision that would make Sirius proud, she slipped her feet into her shoes and scrambled towards the door, desperate not to miss him before he got farther away from the castle.

Hermione hid behind an alcove, before placing a Silencing Charm on her footsteps and casting another Disillusionment Charm. Her first one was rather weak and she mentally set a reminder to practice it more, once she got back from her escapade.

Grumbling to herself for not borrowing James's invisibility cloak instead, she followed the man swiftly, suspicion continuing to arise as he entered further into the Forbidden Forest.

The path was barely visible, low streaks of the moonlight hitting the rough, ancient trees. Unless he was assigned to catch something for Professor Sprout, he had no business being inside the home of numerous creatures.

She'd read about the Centaurs wanting to be left alone and she respected their wish, mentally cringing for going against it.

She wasn't necessarily scared. She'd visited the edge of the Forest multiple times to visit Hagrid, who in turn had convinced her and the boys to enter it briefly to look for _Acromantulas_.

Thankfully, they'd failed to find any as Peter had hurried to mention how he needed to go to the loo. Yet again, he proved to be a cheeky, sly boy who just needed a little confidence and a push — most times from Hermione.

Hiding behind a beech tree, she noticed him pass past a bunch of Knotgrass. She immediately discarded the idea of him helping the Herbology Professor, squinting at his shadowed figure and waiting for him to do something.

He halted, his wand in his hand as he hissed something she couldn't quite comprehend from the distance. She swore she saw something move on the skin of his forearm, before his hand covered it and clutched it as though he was in pain.

She attempted to move closer to the man, but the _crunch_ of a branch caught both of their attention to her way, and she cursed silently at the charm that had worn off.

Hermione quickly whispered another one, silencing her steps as she moved away from her previous location, deciding she needed to go back before he caught her spying on him.

She shoved down all her ridiculous ideas, begrudgingly aware of the fact that maybe, she was just desperate to find something against a Professor she'd ended up not respecting. She chastised herself for being irrational, and made her way back to the Common Room.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for over 100 follows on this story! It was a beautiful Christmas gift from you guys and I hope you've been spending your holidays safely and happily. I have the next chapter almost ready and I'll probably post it before the New Year. Feel free to let me know what you think! Oh, and a couple of people pointed out wanting Hermione to date someone before Sirius and don't worry! She will definitely go on dates, because there's _no way_ I'm pulling a J.K. Rowling and making the girl wait while the guy goes ahead and snogs whoever he wants. This will _not_ be a repeat of the canon sixth year in HP.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: First of all, happy new year! I hope 2020 brings you a lot of happiness and ****love. And finally, here's the last chapter of the year! I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**November, 1976.**

Biting her lip, she stopped herself before she could burst into laughter. The boy in front of her had strands of hair sticking out everywhere, his mouth slightly open as it let out soft snores.

Kneeling on the ground, she placed her elbows on the mattress and peered at him through her lashes. She'd convinced the boys to wake up earlier than usual, determined to get everything prepared before he could find out.

Unable to stop herself, she blew a strand away from his eye and glanced curiously at him as his lids fluttered. She craned her head to find her best friends looking at her with impatient expressions that said 'get on with it!'.

Sticking her lower lip to form a pout, she arched a bow that betrayed her look of innocence. They weren't swayed and _simultaneously_ motioned to wake him up. It was getting frightfully obvious how much they spent their time together.

She only hoped her studying methods will manage to stick with them as well, by the time N.E.W.T.s come around.

Hermione turned back around and moved her index finger to poke his cheek, silent surprise overcoming her at the softness she felt.

She idly wondered if her dad would like Wizarding shaving methods as a gift.

His hand immediately moved to catch her wrist, warm fingers wrapping around it as he peered at her through his silver, molten eyes. They widened just slightly, before he closed them to open them yet again.

"Hermione?" His voice was hoarse—somehow, it managed to send chills down her spine—and his blinking grew more rapidly by the second.

He looked bewildered and Merlin, she wondered what kind of dreams he was having.

Shrugging her hand off his grip, her fingers gripped his blanket and she moved it away, intent on making sure he woke up for sure. He was oddly quiet and when she looked at him, his face held a strange pale colour to his face.

"Happy birthday?" she tried, but only a cough came as a response. She hesitated briefly, before curiously placing her palm on his forehead, immediately feeling the heat coming from his skin.

"Er—mate, do you want some cake?" James asked as he moved to join her, giving their best friend a sheepish smile.

Sirius grunted in response, though the mention of cake caught his attention and he sat up, quickly muttering a spell aimed at his mouth and wasting no time in grabbing the large plate.

"Wait! We need to light the candles—" she began to protest, but Remus placed a hand on her shoulder and shot her an incredulous look.

"I don't think a sick Sirius has enough patience for that, Hermione," he said dryly as she sat back down on the floor and crossed her arms.

The four of them eyed the boy, who didn't bother cutting the cake properly, instead dragging the chocolate delicacy in his mouth with a spoon.

By the time he was done munching on half of his breakfast in bed, Peter had scurried off to God knows where, and James had told them he needed to talk to his Quidditch team for the next week's match.

Remus looked rather uncomfortable as he shuffled on his feet, and he eventually said in an awkward tone, "Well, class is starting soon—"

"I'll stay," she quickly offered and he looked relieved, finally grabbing his bag from the foot of his bed and shooting one last concerned look at Sirius before he slipped past the door and shut it.

"Sirius," she said softly, tracing soft patterns on his arm. "Is it really bad?"

"Just a cold," he croaked, looking at her blearily through heavy lids. His lips were chapped and she would've assumed he was cold from his shivers, had he not been radiating immeasurable heat from his body.

She gnawed on her lip, casting a spell she'd once found in _Medical Spells and Uses_. Finally, aware of the temperature of his body, she concluded that it really wasn't a serious fever, just more of a terrible cold like he'd said.

Drawing a breath, she pulled the blanket closer to him, tucking it around his body. She shuffled around the room and stole a couple of pillows from James's bed.

"Why does he have so many?" she muttered to herself, just as she set them up around his head.

Sirius seemed to have heard her because he managed to give her a lopsided grin. "Probably thinks about Evans when he holds them at night."

She laughed at the image, softly smacking his head with the smallest pillow. He yelped in surprise and she almost apologized to him — _almost_.

"Now," she started, pushing him against the wall, and pulled back the duvet to climb into bed. She unconsciously moved closer to the heat as she settled on her side. "Does the sick, birthday boy have any requests?"

"Don't you have class?" he asked quietly, eyes closing with a sigh when her fingers reached his hair, to run through it.

Her lips twitched at the look of content on his face and she mentally patted herself on the back. "Nope," she popped the 'p' in the same way Sirius usually did and he grinned.

"I'm choosing to _skip_," she ignored his fake gasp of surprise, "and take care of you."

"I'm _definitely_ not complaining," he murmured and nuzzled closer—ignoring how awkward and painful the position may have been for him—causing her to properly turn on her side so that she faced him.

Hermione caught her breath as he looked straight in her eyes, an unreadable glint swimming in grey. She shifted under the heavy blanket and cleared her throat, hoping she could calm the unreasonably loud thud of her heart.

He gave her a charming smile, opening his mouth as if to say something, when his eyes fluttered shut and his breathing evened.

Still frozen, Hermione let out a sigh and forced her fingers to feather through the long, tousled strands of hair, continuing to do so until she welcomed darkness as well.

* * *

A soft click was all it took for his sleep streak to break and he mentally cursed _everything _for ruining such nice dreams.

For all it was worth, at least he found his arm placed over Hermione's stomach, and he inhaled, desperate to catch the citrus smell of her hair.

The scent always managed to make him feel better, or at least it did when his nose wasn't being a little bitch because of a cold.

The afternoon sun had dropped low enough and her soft curls were swimming in tangerine gold sunlight. Sirius believed that right there was the prettiest sight - one that not even a magical camera lense could capture.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he finally looked towards the origin of the sound and narrowed his eyes at James, who was holding his camera on one hand and a small picture in the other.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, casting a furtive glance at their best friend. Once he made sure she was still asleep, he looked back up and found James's hands free of anything — as if moments earlier hadn't happened.

Slightly pleased at having something with which he could look back at the memory, a shit eating grin split on his face and he sunk his head back onto the pillow.

"How are you feeling, Pads?" he heard James ask and he mumbled a quick 'fine'. He did seem slightly better after getting the much needed rest, and being surrounded by warmth made him feel . . . _safe_.

As if a cold could possibly defeat Sirius Black.

"I skipped Divination to come back here, but I guess I'm not wanted here," James said and he could tell he had a huge smirk on his face like the idiot he was.

"No, you're not," he agreed, desperately hoping Hermione won't wake up and scramble off the bed with the lamest excuse she could find.

The girl was the smartest person he knew—well, maybe after Dumbledore—but she wasn't all too skilled at lying.

"Fine," his best friend grumbled and the door clicked, signalling it being open. "Just remember what Remus and I told you."

With that, he left and Sirius let out a weary sigh at the reminder. How could he forget? They had called him a little shit for being an arsehole to Hermione, not even explaining to her the _real_ reason as to why he was mad.

How could he tell her that he just wanted to be appreciated by her in a different way — much more feelings oriented. It wasn't something he was used to and there would've been no way he would've admitted it in front of her, ever.

So, he cooked up the closest, alternative excuse he could find and was extremely grateful for being forgiven. He still regretted ruining her birthday party, hating the way Gideon had gotten the chance to approach her again.

Did the git think he could get another chance with her? _Sirius_ was the one who dragged her to Potter Manor during the summer break, to get her out of her sulking mood and allow her to eat enough ice cream before she got a stomach ache.

Hermione told them that he only wanted to be friends again, though a part of him couldn't stop expecting her to announce something totally different one day.

Cringing, he ran a hand through his hair. Sirius had no right to be mad at whoever dated her. He'd realized that if he wanted to deserve her, he needed to stop fucking random girls, and take a break to learn what a long lasting relationship would be like and how he should act accordingly.

He wasn't ready to properly date someone and the last person he wanted to hurt was _her_. Sirius needed to put actual effort and he was more than willing to do it.

Hence, being the amazing guy he was, he, for the moment, proceeded to sit back down to calm his racing heart, everytime she did something that made him want to snog her silly.

It was way more often than he had predicted.

And it was moments like this one, though, where they lay in the same bed, cuddling in each other's arms like the best friends that they were, that reminded him of how he just _couldn't_ risk their friendship. Sirius needed to handle it in a much more delicate way.

She was worth too much; more than his Nimbus 1700 and his leather jacket. She was Hermione Granger and to him, she was more important than Merlin himself.

So, he snuggled under the blanket and let out a peaceful sigh. He would continue to enjoy the times where she sat near the Black Lake, allowing the soft breeze to flow through her curls as he took a close-up picture of her beautiful eyes that shone thanks to the sunlight.

"This is not how I planned on celebrating your birthday."

He looked to his side, biting down a chuckle at the mess surrounding her head. He brought her closer to his chest with his arm, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"Nurse Granger," he began with exaggerated solemnity, "you were the best gift I've ever gotten."

When he felt a kick on his shin, he groaned in pain and she wiggled out of his hold. Rolling her pretty eyes at him, she sat up and checked his temperature with her palm. "You're obviously doing fine now, so get up."

Sirius wrapped both arms around her waist and tried convincing her to lay back down, but she just wouldn't hear it.

Now, _that _was one reason why he wanted to learn what dating someone meant. Could he really wake up to his kitten throwing him off the bed with her claws everyday?


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hello. Er—a few days ago, I edited the past seven chapters and brought a few changes. Of course, recent new readers don't really get affected, but for you old lovely people, let me tell you. (Sorry for calling you old.) So, other than fixing embarrassing spelling mistakes, I've also:**

**\- deleted the scene in chapter 2, where Sirius tells James he likes her.**

**\- changed a few words in the fight between Hermione and Sirius, because I found her to be pleading too much, considering they were both used to small fights.**

**\- definitely changed Sirius's POV in chapter 7. He no longer acts like a teenage boy that's going to continue snogging other girls, all because he's not ready to like Hermione. A big thanks to _Nortia2_'s review! You made me realize how I wasn't really portraying Sirius in the way I wanted, hence making those changes happen. Now, Sirius is going to stop messing with other girls and work his way through developing a good relationship with her, while making sure either don't end up messing their friendship.**

* * *

**December, 1976.**

Hermione exited the library, feeling a sudden rush of exhaustion wash over her body. She'd managed to convince the boys to finish their pending work, but they'd left much sooner than she had.

She hadn't even realized how much time had passed. Somehow, she'd barely even batted an eye when she found out it had been more than two hours. Blinking at the clock, she figured it was something that she'd just grown used to; always finding an immeasurable interest in her studies.

As she finally got out of her trance, she began to move towards the staircase, intent on making her way back to her dorm without getting caught. She paused briefly when she reminded herself that she was also a Prefect, so technically she _could_ lie about having rounds.

Giving a dubious hum to her subconscious, she continued her journey in the dark, wishing she had special eyes that could allow her to see everything that went on in the dungeons. It was certainly a dangerous decision, to keep the library so close to them.

She thought she'd imagined it, when she heard a familiar voice on the other side of the hallway. Hermione hid behind a door, hoping she hadn't made too much ruckus in the meanwhile. The set of voices came closer and she found herself curious to find out who it was.

"Are you sure she won't know it was me?" the familiar voice asked, sound muffled through the door. The boy's name was on the tip of her tongue, so close that she bit it hard enough to bleed.

"Grow a pair, Pettigrew. I've told you it's going to be fine."

What the hell was Peter doing so late? Granted she was also awake, but that wasn't on purpose—or so she tried to justify, anyways.

On the other hand, her best friend was having a full on conversation with a boy, whose speech resembled a certain Slytherin all too much.

She heard the distinct sound of footsteps as they trailed off, and she chanced a moment to see if it was Peter, who had remained rooted to his spot. Careful not to startle him, she moved away from the doorway and squinted her eyes at the boy.

Recognizing the back of his scrawny head immediately, she gently tapped on his shoulder and waited as he swirled around, choking on a breath when he saw her.

"Peter," she greeted casually, a brow _perfectly_ arched.

Coughing a little, he gave her a small smile, despite the surprise.

"Hermione," he exclaimed in a hushed tone. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was just studying in the library. Who were you talking to?"

"It was . . . Mulciber, but let me explain," he hastened to explain, waving his hands around enthusiastically to placate her doubtful glare. "I pulled a small prank on Mcgonagall, and he distracted her before she could find out it was me."

"Peter, how can you be so sure he wasn't doing it for an ulterior move?" she hissed, rubbing her face tiredly. "And just why were you pranking her?"

"I — it's nothing, Hermione. It's better if I don't tell you, you know. Especially if she ends up asking you about it."

"I wouldn't _rat_ you out," she insisted, unable to restrain her lips from twitching at what she'd just said.

He gave her an incredulous look and she shrunk at the stare. Perhaps, she would have, if she were given the look Professor Mcgonagall managed to sport, each time Hermione was caught in an act as well.

"Right," she said, clearing her throat. "Just be careful, Wormtail. He's not a good guy."

"You don't know him," he protested, a hint of anger underlying his tone. She hadn't known for him to be so chummy with Slytherins.

Casting him a sideways glance as they began to move up the staircase, she eventually answered, "But _you_ don't him either. All I know is that he hurt Mary and he could hurt you too!"

Taking a hold of her wrist, he finally stopped her in front of the Fat Lady's portrait with a pleading expression. "You don't believe me, but I _can_ defend myself."

She began to protest, but he put up a hand up to stop her. "You won't tell the guys about it, will you?"

Hermione shook her head mutely, already regretting the decision. Though, he gave her such a bright, thankful smile; one that looked so innocent that she failed to see what could ever go wrong with supporting him.

She supposed she should be proud of him for coming so far, even with his struggles in classes and with socializing. Just like Remus, he really needed to get out of his shell. If he wanted to be friends with Slytherins, it was fine by her.

_But why Mulciber? _

Groaning, she dragged her feet up the staircase, leading her to the safety and comfort of her dorm, and plopped herself on the bed. She threw the covers over her face and tried to calm her racing mind.

A part of her couldn't help but be selfish. He knew that he'd hurt Hermione in DADA, didn't he?

* * *

As soon as Hermione got out of the train, she felt a harsh, freezing ball of snow slap her face, causing her to shriek loudly and turn her face around.

She frantically looked for the guys, aware that they were the ones who could possibly ruin her day further. They had already messed with her enough, by not letting her sleep peacefully in the warm compartment.

Finally catching a glimpse of black, unruly hair, she slipped her hand in her glove to keep it warm and kneeled on the ground, intent on creating a much larger and firmer snowball. Once she was done, Hermione carefully hid her hand behind her back and approached her best friends, who were trying their best to look away, innocent expressions worn on their faces.

Innocent - as if! They were anything but that.

She quickened her pace and finally threw the ball at them, hoping it would hit at least one of them. She halted on her feet, going as far as tripping on air and landing with her knees on the soft layer of white snow.

She hadn't seen Charlus in the back.

Her messy curls covered her face as she hid it in between her knees, hoping the ground would swallow her whole. Two hands grabbed her waist from behind and forcibly pulled her back up, despite her trying to make her body heavier.

"Look at that, kitten. You're in trouble now," Sirius's deep voice murmured close to her ear, and had she not been so focused on cringing as she met the older man's gaze, she would've kneed Sirius where the sun surely didn't shine.

"Charlus — oh, no. Is it Mr. Potter now? I'm sorry for that. I . . . was trying to hit your son? Wait, I take that back, really. I _love_ James," she rambled, looking over to Dorea, who seemed to have a certain fascination with her endless babbling.

The older woman shooed Sirius away from her and moved to wrap an arm around her shoulders, making sure to gently pepper her forehead in greetings.

"Hermione, I've never been so happy to see you," she said, laughing freely as they both looked back at Charlus's face.

The man stepped up to give her a brief embrace, chuckling as he looked down at her when moving away.

"A snowball to my nose is definitely not going to change my mind, little one. It's still Charlus for you," he winked, ruffling her hair.

She tried her best to fix the frizz he'd caused without showing a disrespectful scowl, but her best friends chortled at her anyways. Reminded of the reason it had all happened, she looked back at the four and pointed an accusing finger.

"You! I'll get you back for that," Hermione promised in a low tone, watching with pleasure when they visibly gulped.

"You do that, but do it at the Manor, where Charlus and I can watch and enjoy," Dorea said from beside her and she gave the woman a firm nod, grinning like a fool at James's parents humour.

"Have either of you seen my parents?" she asked and looked around the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the couple.

When her eyes finally caught Richard Granger's familiar short, brown curls, she hurried to bid goodbye to everyone so that she could catch up to him.

"Make sure to visit during Christmas!" Charlus called from behind and she yelled back a reply in assent, eyes now roaming around her mother's face. Her black hair was starting to gray and she couldn't help but frown briefly at the reminder of her aging family.

She approached them with a beaming smile, just in time to hear her dad saying, "Allison, did we turn off the stove?"

"Yeah, mom, Did you?" she asked in a teasing voice as she finally joined them, and allowed them to engulf in tight, overwhelming hugs.

"Of course, I did," Allison snipped with a teary smile.

_I missed you_'s were exchanged and her heart swelled at the overwhelming feeling of finally being home, despite still standing on the platform.

Her breath hitched when she caught Avery's and Muliber's families looked over at them with distaste, and she hurried to grab her parents' arms to pull them away from the dangers growing in the Wizarding world.

Over the past year, she'd seen the seed grow into a tall plant and now, she feared for the moment they'll find out what the reality really was. She couldn't possibly keep them from the numerous deaths caused by You-Know-Who for any longer.

Hermione shook her head and looked back at the couple as they bickered lovingly. She would do that later.

* * *

Descending the wooden stairs, she entered the kitchen to be hit with the wonderful smell of chocolate cookies. Oh, it smelled like absolute _heaven_.

"Remus would've loved being here," she told her mom as she plopped down her usual seat, looking over the table's end and eyeing the tray of cookies with hunger.

"Oh, sweetheart. Don't you remember we've invited your boys over?" her mother said and turned to face her, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Wait - you're right! And here I thought you made those for me," she grumbled.

Allison laughed, a fond smile playing at her lips when she placed a hand on top of her messy head. "They're for you, too. Stop being jealous of your friends, Hermione," she admonished her with amusement.

"Yeah, Hermione. Stop being jealous of us," a voice spoke from behind her and she jumped in her seat, her neck craned to glare at Sirius.

Her eyes flickered down to the camera hanging off his neck and she grinned, looking over to her dad—who seemed to be having a rather silly conversation with James—and caught his attention.

"Dad. He's the one."

Sirius spluttered and choked on his spit. It was a rather unflattering sight. "I'm the what?"

Her father silently invited everyone to join the large table, looking at Sirius with a pleased smile.

"It was you who took the pictures?" he asked.

Her best friend shrunk in his seat and eventually nodded, clearing his throat. "Yes, sir."

"I've told you to call me Richard, son," he reminded him in a clear tone. "And thank you! We've been complaining to Hermione for so long, about the lack of her pictures in this house."

"It was a pleasure — taking her pictures, I mean," Sirius said in a quick sentence, reddening further and further at each word. God, why was he so flustered?

"Whatever else would you mean?" her dad asked, arching a brow at him, and the boys — except Sirius, of course — all chortled at that.

"Stop interrogating him, Richard. Let the boys eat now," Allison said, looking at the teenagers with a fond smile.

Hermione rolled her eyes and began to fill her plate with meats and vegetables, happy to spend Christmas Eve with the people she loved the most.

.

"Moony, stop pawing my balls."

"Padfoot, I have absolutely _no_ interest in your dick."

"Hey, Wormtail. Is that a chocolate chip in your hair?"

"Prongs, don't pull my hair!"

Hermione rolled off her bed, joining the guys on the ground, as they lay on their appointed mattress for every time they came over.

"Can you be any louder?" she asked, shaking her head at their antics.

"Hermione, the pack needs you for us to calm down," Remus said in a solemn tone, carting a hand through his hair.

"Hm, have Vulpy, instead."

She transformed into a red fox, lowering her head to mess his hair with her snout.

He uncharastically yelped, scrambling on top of Sirius and pushing the boy in his place. The young Black huffed at the force and eyed her carefully.

Vulpy laid on her back in between James and Sirius, who began to pet her gray belly with a chuckle.

"This is not fair. I can't transform in your room without breaking something," James complained and she managed to see the incredulous look Peter sent him in the dark.

"James, if her parents saw me, they would probably _kill_ me with a mouse trap."

Unable to laugh freely in her form, she transformed back to human and snuggled under the heavy blankets, compromising with the loss of her soft bed in exchange of the ability of being close to her best friends.

* * *

"So," her dad began. She narrowed her eyes when he pulled her away from everyone, who'd gathered in front of the entrance. Once he found the distance to be enough, he looked back at her.

"What is it, dad?" she asked.

"You got the gift for him, didn't you?"

When he received an enthusiastic nod, he patted her shoulder and gave her an adoring smile. "You're all good friends, Hermione. I'm very happy to see your friendship."

Hermione could see he was holding back something, as if it were on the tip of his tongue and he was physically trying to grab onto it. Feeling pity for him and the familiar curiously swimming in his eyes, she tilted her head with a grin.

"You want to say something," she stated, resembling a question at the same time.

"Er." Discomfort took over his face and he scrunched up his nose before blurting out, "Is there anything going on between you two? You know . . . that thing."

He tapped his two index fingers to make them somehow resemble a kiss and had she not been burning with embarrassment, she would've laughed at him.

Remembering his question, Hermione looked over at the boy in question, who was struggling to keep his hair out of his eyes as the harsh wind continued to blow. He tripped on a step and her mom hid a small laugh behind her hand, before hurrying to help him up.

"Nope," she answered, popping the 'p'.

"He's a good guy," Richard allowed, motioning for them to start moving back to join the rest. "But I'll probably beat him up, still, if he were to hurt you."

"Good thing we're not dating then," she quipped and her lips twitched at his struggle of keeping a straight, serious face.

He gave her a resigned sigh and wrapped his arms around her, allowing her to close her eyes and move her arms around his torso, tight and safe.

"I love you," he murmured and he finally let go of her, looking over to his wife with adoring eyes, who—as if sensing his eyes on her—walked over to them and smiled.

She opened her arms and narrowed her eyes at Hermione. "Well, are you going to hug me too, or?"

"Feisty," her dad said under his breath and nudged her to hug the woman before Hermione could tattle tale of what she'd just heard him saying.

Her mom's soft, straight black hair tickled her nose and her grip around her tightened when she felt a teardrop on her shoulder.

Hermione hurried to pull back to look properly at the older woman's face. Her big brown eyes were shining with unshed tears, and she felt her gaze soften.

"You cry _every time _I leave," she complained half-heartedly and her mom sniffed, reminding Hermione to wipe her tears away for her.

Her mom's cheeks were still so soft. She remembered feeling the soft skin when she rubbed her cheeks with her own as a kid.

"I can't help it!" Allison exclaimed in strong tone, looking over her daughter's face; making sure her eyes didn't have bags under them, feeling pride surge through her at how well her teeth were taken care of.

"Hermione!" She heard Peter call, and she reluctantly let go of her mom's arms.

"I love you," she told both of her parents and her mom nodded, cupping her cheek and poking it with her thumb one last time.

Finally, she entered the Knight Bus and left Yorkshire for the rest of the break.

* * *

"You didn't do anything over the top, did you?" Sirius asked as she tied a blindfold over his eyes.

"Of course not," she lied, shrugging to everyone else in the room. He would find out soon anyways.

She intertwined his fingers with hers and led him to the large gardens of Potter Manor. While in his seventh year, Lucius Malfoy had often rattled on about having peacocks in his family home, the Potters were much more modest with the beauty that lived around their Manor.

The flagstone patio was bordered by lush trees, a variety of flowers—the tulips were her favourite and they all knew that—and more than one seating area scattered around the acres full of vivid, green grass.

As she slid the door to the entrance open, she grabbed Sirius's to stop him from walking farther than he should, and finally moved behind him, removing the blindfold carefully and slowly—she needed to be dramatic, of course—allowing him to see the best Christmas gift in the entire world.

They had all tipped in, contributing to the final price of the gift. She had begged her parents to allow her to spend a large amount of money, just like the rest of the boys had. It had all been worth it, she concluded as she watched his mouth pop open in wonder and he made his way to it with careful steps, as though it might vanish in the meanwhile.

"Is this real?" he asked, awe bleeding his tone. He looked over at them, just to turn his eyes back to the motorcycle.

Her lips split into a grin and James answered pompously, "We can't have you wearing a leather jacket without a motorcycle to ride."

He laughed, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his hair before running towards his best friends and trying his best to keep his arms around all of them.

The two wheeler, Kawasaki Z 900, winked at them with its shine of the diamond black paint.

"I'm so happy, I could kiss you!" he told them excitedly, finally ending the tight, breath choking hug.

She felt a little push from behind and her steps skittered, with Sirius wrapping his firm hands on her arms to keep her from falling.

"Not me. Kiss her!" she heard James say from behind, and before she could turn around to give him a murderous glare, Sirius's hands found her cheeks.

Her breath hitched; his touch was warm, _so_ warm and firm and his eyes were boring into hers. They flickered down to her lips and she found that she couldn't breathe—_inhale and exhale, Hermione_—

He swallowed hard and her eyes inevitably fell closed because despite whatever point she may put forward to argue, the trace of his fingers against her skin was making it impossible for her to keep her hormones in check.

She hated men's cologne, but of course - of _fucking_ course, he had to manage to smell just as good as he looked.

Her eyes were still closed, but she managed to feel him getting closer—just how close was he, that she could feel his cool breath ghost against her mouth?—and her mind went completely, utterly sodding _blank_.

His hands tightened ever so slightly against her cheekbones, and before she could register what he was about to do, his touch left her skin.

Her breath left in a whoosh as soon and as quick as he simply pecked her cheek.

Her eyes popped open, all too wide to find him already walking back inside, but he stopped; his head snapped back over his shoulder, a slow smirk made its way on his soft lips, and he pointedly turned around.

She rationalized that there was _no way_ she wanted anything to happen, righted herself and joined everyone in the living room as they continued to exchange gifts.


	9. Chapter 9

**January, 1977.**

Hermione hated having a weakness - especially one that was so irrational. She was first in almost every class, yet she couldn't quite let go of the need to be complimented for something more; for something that she didn't often hear, not nearly enough like about how smart she was.

So, when _he_ came up to her and informed her of just how pretty she looked, she was reminded of why she hated and liked that weakness all the same.

Because her heart still fluttered at the memory continuously playing over and over again, desperate to please the butterflies making home in her stomach at the sudden compliment. Thankfully, it was cold out as they watched the Quidditch game, so if he noticed the heat in her cheeks, she really did _not_ care.

It was an irrational reaction each time someone complimented her looks—and she repeatedly told herself that she did not care about them—but every time, she still wanted it to happen again.

To think that he'd asked her out on a date, it was a _big_ deal. She had spent years trying to convince the boys more than once, that he was not a bad guy. He had dreamy, golden locks of hair and just how could such an angel be a git, like they so-called him?

Not to mention that she _fervently_ believed he was smart, no matter the fact that he was a year older and she was in no class with him to actually know.

She was being quite unreasonable, especially for a guy she really didn't like romantically, but didn't find it in her to care. At least, not for this.

To make matters worse, Gideon often sided with her best friends when they complained about her infatuation over a 'dumb boy'.

First of all, it was just _appreciation_, not infatuation. She hadn't even liked a boy in so long, since Gideon.

Oh, and he was _not_ dumb, or so she hoped, anyways.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when Sirius waved a hand in front of her face, trying to catch her attention as he swallowed down a bite of his toast.

A bored look on her face, she tried to ignore him, but she was a fool if she thought that it would get him to stop. Finally resigned, she swatted his hand away and scowled. "What is it?"

"Do you think I'm pretty?" he asked, batting his lashes in an exaggerated manner.

Of course, he felt the need to say something so random. Playing along, she smirked inwardly at the chance of getting him back. After the stunt he'd pulled on Christmas, he had gotten too confident for his own good, often adding lingering touches whenever he could.

God, he was being just like Peter . . .

"Yes," she answered, giving him a winning smile, before drawing her cup of tea to her lips, taking a sip. Surprise crossed his face before he shoved it away with an arrogant look.

Just as he opened his mouth, she cut him off and added, "Pretty fucking annoying."

James choked on whatever he'd been eating, while Remus hit his forehead on the table to hide his loud chortles. Peter seemed to be enjoying everything quietly, though he sported a big smile on his face.

Goodness, the boys loved each other a lot, but they enjoyed the other's 'pain' just as much.

She arched a brow at Sirius, waiting patiently for a reaction, but nothing followed. As if to hide her unease, she set her cup down and leaned forward in her seat.

His perfect, thick brows remained in place, while his eyes—did they always look like they resided the prettiest set of stars in them?—didn't budge, not even to glare or narrow them at her.

His nose wasn't scrunched, to further define his sharp cheekbones, nor did his plump, bow lips purse into a pout.

Startlingly aware of the shape of his lips, she realized that he hadn't been with a girl for almost four months now, making her believe there _had_ to be something going on with him.

Her nose scrunched up in confusion, and she tilted her head, unaware of the pink that tinged his cheeks due to her prolonged staring.

"Sirius," she began carefully. By this point, everyone had gone back to eating, disappointed over not having witnessed a playful banter between the two. So, she didn't think it would have been a problem, when she said, "Are you experiencing issues with your . . . _you know_?"

"My what, Hermione?" he asked, sounding quite miffed.

"Your _thing_!" she said, urging him to understand as her voice began to rise.

He shook his head dumbly, his gaze locked with hers in pure, innocent confusion. "Just say it," he complained. With a small grin, he added, "And to think _I'm_ the annoying one."

Somehow managing to feel reprimanded, her face burned and she finally spluttered, "Your _dick_!"

His spoon dropped with a _clank_, just as his mouth hung open, wide eyes. She heard a female gasp from somewhere near and found almost everyone back at staring at them.

Cringing, she shot her best friend an apologetic look, which he seemed to ignore as he gaped at her. Finally out of his stupor, he choked out, "No!" He cleared his throat and continued, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh." She willed herself not to claw everyone's eyes out—public attention just brought a whole another violent side of her—and she gulped down a lump that had formed in her throat.

_Keep it together_, her mind reminded her. Merlin, she was seventeen. She should be able to put her best friend and dick in the same sentence, without wanting the ground to swallow her whole.

Except, now her brain was supplying her with plenty of images of him - _naked_. It was thoroughly inappropriate and she couldn't let wide awake brain get the best of her, not even at the sinful sight of an edible—_edible_, for Merlin's sake!—chest and thick thighs that would keep her body up, as she was pushed against the wall to—

_No, no, no_. This could _not_ be happening.

It was Sirius Black, she reminded herself as he raked a hand through his black hair and visibly gulped. It was her best friend; the one she'd known since her first year. She'd seen him in his best and worst moments, just like he had with her.

And yet, this conversation thrilled her more than the excitement that ran through her body, when Gilderoy Lockhart, of all people, had asked her out on a date.

It sounded silly to her now; that anticipation had died down. It felt as though even her reaction paled in comparison to the one she was experiencing at the moment.

Unaware of Sirius also panicking over similar, yet different thoughts in his head, she felt her hair shift in her head. She nervously patted the top, hoping to feel whatever that was making it itch so much.

The feeling halted, but she didn't have time to pay mind to that, as her fingers grasped onto slimy strands of hair. Both of her hands now flew to her mass of curls, bringing forward a thick strand closer to inspect it. She found herself to be looking at a snake - not a real one, of course.

Sirius had turned her into _Medusa_.

Immediately wanting to retaliate—not because of the hair, no. That would be a somewhat rational reason for it, but Hermione was after all, being totally irrational that day. She wanted to get him back for being so - good to her. _And _he did make her more aware of his good looks too, when he tried to kiss her. Though, it only happened twice.

She scratched away the 'only.'

_Too_ _many_ times, she reminded herself.

She flicked her wand, pleased with the way his hair turned green, along with a greenish snot coming out of his nose.

There. This felt like a much safer zone. She could do with pranks and witty remarks, not looks too adoring and lingering touches.

He pointed his wand at her, now making an insane amount of hair grow on her hands.

She got him back for that, by applying clown makeup, that had her certain he didn't even know what one was.

He waited a couple of minutes, breathing heavily and his mind most definitely blanking on something comical, with their eye contact broken when Professor Mcgonagall's voice rang around the room.

"Mr. Black, Miss Granger! What is going on here?" She sounded disappointed when she approached them, but surely not surprised. Even, _she_ was a witness of their constant bickering.

They coughed awkwardly, quietly vanishing their works on the other person's body. "We were just playing," Sirius answered, an easygoing smile on his face that almost hid the lie. _Almost_.

"Yes," she choked out, terribly conscious of the fact she was lying to her favourite professor. "We were cheering each other up."

Professor Mcgonagall turned her steel, piercing stare towards her. "I know exactly what kind of cheering up you and your friends do when it's required, and this is not one of those moments."

Sirius balked. "Merlin, Minnie! You make it sound like we all do something _indecent _together," he said, and Hermione groaned out loud, resisting the urge to slam her head against the table—just like Remus had done earlier, but for different reasons.

"That's enough, Mr. Black. Ten points from both of you, and you two will be receiving a week worth's detention! See me tonight, after dinner."

With an another disapproving look sent her way, the older woman walked away, head held up high and heels clicking loudly.

"Great. One more detention added to my record," she muttered, a sad tone leaking loud and clear in her voice.

"Hermione, this is like, what? Your fourth one? For me, it's the twentieth," Sirius told her, looking entirely too proud for having that many detentions.

"She just knows how to not get caught," Remus chuckled, slinging an arm around her, in hopes to comfort her.

She hummed, feeling somewhat distracted from her pending scholastic doom, by rejoicing her ability to stay sneaky. "Learn from the master," she told Sirius cheekily.

"I've tried my best," he argued, and they both felt a smile tug at their lips.

* * *

"I don't see why you've brought your camera with you," she grumbled, eyeing the piece warily. "We're literally in detention. I doubt I even look decent for a picture."

They'd been scrubbing dirt off the classroom's desks without magic for over an hour now, and she was sure that her bun had turned into a mass of tendrils springing out everywhere. She also most likely had dirt somewhere on her face.

Which wouldn't be surprising, considering the way he continued to stare at her.

"Eh, it's still a memory I'd like to keep to myself, if you don't want me to send a copy to your parents," he said nonchalantly. As his mercurial eyes continued to linger on her face, he added, "And you look perfect."

His voice had been firm, if not also deep and husky.

There. Yet another nonsensical reaction to compliments. Her heart slammed against her chest, the sound booming in her ears as she willed her cheeks not to burn at the intense gaze. She told herself that he'd said it too casually to mean it, but the earnest look made her hesitate.

Again and again, she found herself switching between believing him and not taking him seriously at all - no pun intended.

"Oh," she managed, a lame excuse of a reply. "That's nice of you to say."

Sirius rolled his eyes, looking a bit put out at the response. "I'm not being nice. I'm being truthful."

In moments like these, her ears couldn't help but catch at the strong posh accent that appeared stronger than ever. And though he possessed it, he never took advantage of his Pureblood status. No, he always managed to remain humble and kind to those considered 'lowly.'

Not to mention how he managed to switch so quick in between different attributes, such as humor to sobriety.

It was as though he was perfect.

She remembered the time he had complained about not getting the compliments he'd wanted, and since her gut was urging her to blurt it out as she would mean it sincerely, she admitted, "You look perfect too."

He blinked, looking a little stunned. He clearly hadn't been expecting that. The wet, yellow sponge slipped from his hand and he choked out a laugh. "What?"

She nodded with a wide smile, despite the quickened beat of her heart. "Yes, you seem pretty perfect to me."

She always had, she just hadn't realized it. Over the past six years, he hadn't hesitated to throw his arms around her in a warm hug, in joyful times or depressing. He'd almost always sent her a bright smile, reminding her of just why she loved being at Hogwarts so much. The endless love and appreciation she had gotten from him - it was more powerful than magic itself. Every time she looked up, his starry gaze looked at her patiently, waiting for her - whether they were in the library, or when she ate her share of the desert rather slowly.

Small things had always mattered to her, more than physical looks. With Sirius, those were just a plus, a bonus to his perfection.

And his flaws? They were perfect in their own way, even his reckless loyalty for his friends. Though, one day that could land him in trouble.

"Right," he said slowly, looking unsure on how to react, "Thank you, Hermione."

Pleased with herself, she sat on top of the desk she'd just finished cleaning, sprawling her hands behind her back, and cocked a brow at him.

"You said something about copies. Do you make a copy of the pictures?" she asked curiously.

He nodded, scratching the back of his neck. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Well, no - but why would you do that?" she asked, her brows arching high on her forehead in disbelief.

His silver eyes bore into hers, and he licked his lips as he thought of his answer. "I don't know. It's something I did the first time I sent the pictures to your parents, and I guess it just stuck with me . . . to keep a copy for myself."

A short, comfortable silence descended upon them, and she relished it as she was unable to respond to what he'd just said.

"You never answered my question, from earlier. The one about you experiencing problems with your . . . you know," she said, and despite the confidence that had overcome her previously, she still awkwardly nodded at his lower body part with a grimace.

No longer taken aback, his lips grew into a small, smug smirk and he shook his head. "No, Hermione. My dick works just fine, but if you would like to test it out . . ." He smiled lazily at her and winked.

She faked a shudder, determined to stay focused on her curiosity. "Then, how come you haven't been with a girl since the start of the term?"

His smirk changed into a wide smile, and he shrugged as he bent to pick up the sponge from the floor. He turned his back at her to finish cleaning the desk and said, "I've decided to change my ways."

"Why?" she questioned, eyeing him skeptically.

"To have a chance with another girl," he replied, truth bleeding into his tone as his words sunk in.

The answer pricked her skin, causing a scowl to appear on her face.

"You like someone?" she asked, even though she'd already come to the conclusion.

He made an affirmative noise. "But I don't know if it's working. She has a date with someone else," he continued offhandedly.

Her lips parted on a breath and for a moment, she doubted she'd heard him right.

Now, Hermione wasn't stupid. She prided herself for solving many riddles, so when he turned back around and walked towards her in long, but slow strides—flaming gaze locked with an intensity she hadn't seen since last year, in the eyes of someone else—she knew what he meant.

But, could she take him seriously, when there was a chance that he was egging her on, to get back at whatever old trick she might've pulled on him?

Still uncertain, she watched him warily when he called for his camera with an _Accio_ and caught it in his hand, swiftly bringing it up to his face to take a picture of her.

"What are you doing?" she blurted out, her blinking growing more rapidly by the second.

"Catching a beautiful sight before it runs away." He looked at her then—the emotions in his eyes so very clear—with him rooted to the spot, while her heart stuttered.

"What is that even supposed to mean? _I'm _not running away, not until you explain what you just said." Her fingers moved to curl around his elbow.

"I said, 'catching a beautiful—'"

"No, not that," she cut him off, fixing him with an impassive stare. "Before that."

"Accio?" he offered with a hopeful lift of his brows, though it faded rather quickly. Suddenly, his grey eyes made him look very serious, fixing his stare on her with an indecipherable expression. "I told you about liking a very pretty girl, but she's going on a date and she finds me pretty fucking—"

"Miss Granger," a hesitant, small voice called from the door and she craned her neck, immediately hopping off the table, when she saw the Head of Gryffindor.

"Professor, we're just about done," she said quickly, hoping she wouldn't get mad at them for - well, taking a _momentary break_?

"I'm afraid you must come with me to the Headmaster's office."

Her eyes widened. "Yes, Professor. But really, we didn't mean to stop. I apologize if—"

She stopped when her Professor looked away from her, hastily wiping away a couple of tears with the back of her hand.

Hermione looked back at Sirius, who sported a similar crease in his brows, stunned at the weird behaviour of the older woman.

She began to take slow, hesitant steps in hopes of trying to alleviate whatever Professor Mcgonagall may be feeling. Perhaps, she could be the one to offer the tea this time, rather than when the teacher had. That time, Hermione had broken out in big, fat tears at getting an E for her essay, instead of an Outstanding.

"Hermione, it's about your parents."

She let out a short laugh, hoping Professor Mcgonagall didn't find her disrespectful. "What did they do? Ask for the Knight Bus because they missed me?"

Her professor hesitated, before placing a warm hand on her arm. "I think it's best if I bring you to the Headmaster." Her eyes flickered above her head and she added, "Mr. Black can come too."

Although confused, Sirius wasted no time in slipping his hand in hers and walking by her side, as they made their way to Professor Dumbledore's office.

The gargoyle quietly moved out of the way, allowing the three of them to climb the staircase made of stone, in utter and complete silence.

Her mind ran through multiple scenarios and the best one she could find was that the Headmaster had decided on calling her parents, to finally bring her and Sirius's fights to an end.

Somehow, that brought a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Miss Granger," the wizard began in a low voice, his blue eyes locked with hers. "I'm extremely sorry and saddened to inform you that Death Eaters broke into your house, and your parents . . . they were killed."

Words lodged in her mind, unable to fathom what she'd just heard. Voices circled around her, and a part of her urged her to keep it together because there was just no way - no fucking way that her parents could be gone.

No, she had seen them during the break. They were fine, they _had _to be.

A sob wrenched out of her and her lips trembled, her surroundings cruelly sounding like the gentle voice of her mom. "No."

"_Hermione, sweetheart._" It sounded so sweet, as adoring as the voice of her dad, who added, "_Now, that Professor of yours seems to have really comfortable chairs_."

God, they were just fine. "_Richard, stop joking all the time_."

Professor Mcgonagall's voice rang next to her and she shook her head frantically, hoping to tune her out - to somehow bring her parents back into her head. _Come on_, she urged them, _say something_.

She shut her eyes tight and told everyone in the room, "Shut up!" Her body trembled, shaking with continuous, dry sobs that choked the breath out of her.

"Please," she whimpered, pulling her hair in a tight grasp, frustrated with the silence that followed in her ears. "They can't go. No, I have to go home! I need to check on them."

She wobbled unsteadily on her feet and she pushed Sirius's hand away. She could walk on her own. Hermione would even use the Floo, just to get there.

She frantically turned her attention to the fireplace, quickening her pace at each step and reached out to grab the Floo powder, despite everyone telling her not to go. They didn't know what they were talking about. As if Richard and Allison Granger could be brought down so easily.

No, they'd already started making plans for Hermione's _graduation_, and that wasn't even this year.

She allowed the familiar sensation to grab onto her body as she was thrown out of yet another fireplace, the one her dad often sat in front of.

She halted on her steps. He wasn't there, reading a newspaper as he sipped his tea. It was okay, she told herself. He was probably in the kitchen, annoying her mom.

Her feet led her to the kitchen, the same one where they'd often sat together, enjoying muggle feasts of their own, with talks of the neighborhood and patients at the dental clinic.

She stepped away from a shattered lamp, ignoring it as she stared at the empty room. There was nothing on the stove. Maybe her mom was planning on ordering food from outside.

She turned back around, intent on looking for them upstairs, in the bedroom, perhaps. Wherever they were. Her heart urged her to hurry; it could be late.

No, she wouldn't be late.

She moved away from the doorway, freezing in her steps when she saw a bunch of strangers in the living room.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" she demanded, a mix of anger and anxiety knotting her stomach. She had yet to find her parents and these people were just standing like something had happened—

"Hermione?" a tall man approached her, raising his hands as though to show her that he was harmless. Nothing was - no one was harmless. Everyone had evil intentions and she needed to find her fucking parents.

She needed to breathe out in relief.

"I'm Auror Fenwick. I swear we will not harm you," he promised, continuing to walk towards her in slow, careful steps.

"And what about my parents? Are you going to hurt them?" she asked, as really, she could never stop asking that. She needed to constantly make sure of that, because the Grangers were too trusting and there had to be one person in the family who could be suspicious, cautious, and everything that could keep them from getting killed.

No one should be getting killed.

"I'm sorry." There was a sad sheen in his eyes and she hated it.

She shook her head, dismissing him entirely. He had no reason to be sorry. Nothing had happened.

"I'm going to look for them," she informed him, making a swift turn to the left but feeling a crunch against her feet. Her eyes flickered down and she stopped, kneeling on the ground to look at the shattered piece.

God, there was so much glass. She didn't bother flinching at the multiple cuts on her hands, instead focusing on the broken frame. It was a picture of the whole family, small and only of three, but a content one. She looked at the couple with sad eyes.

Now, it was broken.

Her gaze wavered as she began to weep. Loud waves of grief tickled down the same cheeks her parents used to kiss goodnight. Harsh cries ripped from her mouth, hoarse and heart wrenching. Her throat clogged with anguish, an agonizing reminder that felt like a prolonged punch to the gut.

A body swept her into a tight embrace, and she wiped her sleeve roughly across her face, taking slow shuddering breaths like her mother had taught her.

"_Remember, Hermione. There's nothing wrong with crying. The hardest part is getting back up, but I've always known you to be strong_," Alisson had told her one day, when school had started to become exceptionally hard for her, with all the bullies.

Her dad had looked proud, when Hermione had then refused to stay home and weep all day. "_That's my girl_."

_Your girl is alone, dad. It's because you're gone._

She bit her lip to hold back her tears, shaking her head as she tried to dislodge the lump in her throat.

_"I love you," her dad murmured and he finally let go of her, looking over to his wife with adoring eyes, who—as if sensing his eyes on her—walked over to them and smiled._

_"I love you," she told both of her parents and her mom nodded, cupping her cheek and poking it with her thumb one last time._

One last time. It had been the last time.

She could no longer hear her mom's sweet laugh when her dad did something silly, or hear her delighted cries when Hermione came back for the summer. She could no longer sit with her dad through an attempt at cooking and failing yet again, or have him always offer to take her to the library, as though he knew that she'd already finished the last one already.

It felt like her soul had been crushed into tiny little pieces.

She stood mutely - head pressed against a stranger's shoulder - trying to collect herself as best as she could.

Richard and Allison's absence poked at her heart like the shards of glass that surrounded her feet, her home drained with the warmth it used to bear, with murmurs of love and encouraging words.

It used to smell like homemade cookies and toothpaste. Now, it smelled like blood and death.

* * *

Eventually, she was given a Calming Draught, but she insisted on staying there, in the living room, where all the shattered frames had fallen against the floor.

They had been the parents of a muggleborn. And it had gotten them killed.

"Did you catch any of them?" she finally asked, her voice hoarse as she looked at the Auror sat in front of her.

"By the time we arrived, they weren't there anymore," he answered quietly.

"So, they got away, like always," she said bitterly, unable to let go of the fact that it had been all because of her - her cursed existence. "What's the point of having magic, if you don't know how to use it? Aren't you a Pureblood?"

She sounded rude, even to her ears.

"I am a Pureblood, Miss Granger," he answered truthfully, not looking one bit annoyed at her tone.

They fell into a heavy silence. Why he was even there, she didn't know. What would Hermione even do? He had no reason to be cautious over her.

Her body was just bones and muscle. It could do nothing; it could protect no one.

But grief throbbed her blood, scathing to the point she was reminded of how she couldn't even get her revenge.

"You-Know-Who . . . no, _Voldemort_ is a coward."

The young wizard didn't flinch at the name and tilted his head. "Not that I disagree, but why do you think that?"

"He sends his Death Eaters to do the job for him, while he continues to hide. He's a spineless piece of shit," she spat out, unable to care for her inappropriate language.

"Looking at you, I'm sure he doesn't know what he's got coming for him," he said with a small, gentle smile. She tried to smile back, but it felt foreign. It faded rather quickly.

"I'm not too good at fighting, no matter how much I want to kill each one of them." She realized she had just admitted to an Auror, of wanting to kill more than one person.

He merely blinked at her, pressing his lips together with a thoughtful expression. "You remind me of my little sister."

"What happened to her?"

He looked away. "She died."

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment, uncertain. "Was she an Auror as well?"

He hummed, scratching at the dark stubble along his jawline.

After a long silence, he urged her to go back to Hogwarts, but she shook her head. "I'm not ready yet."

It wasn't the same. This time, there were no bullies, but her parents weren't there either, to remind her of her strength.

They had taken it all along with them.

"_Now, don't accuse me of stealing_," her dad's voice rang in her head.

She shut her eyes tight, clutching the cuffs of her sleeves with bloodied hands.

Auror Fenwick turned to stare at her hands, seemingly remembering that they had yet to heal them. He sighed, "Alright, you don't have to go back. But, is there anywhere else you can stay?"

She remained quiet, unable to think.

He leaned forward, his gaze focused on the wound. With a flick of his wand, a sharp pain kicked in and went just as quick. Physical pain, she noticed, could be healed faster than the other kind.

"Is this okay?" he asked, a concerned look on his face.

When he received a mute nod, he plopped on the floor, with his back against the couch.

She wanted to complain, to say how her mom would insist on him sitting up on the couch, instead. She would also be mad at Hermione for letting a guest sit on the floor.

"_Of course, I would. That's not appropriate behaviour_," Allison chided.

Hermione stayed quiet.

"It's dangerous to remain here, and unless you want to book a room at the Leaky Cauldron, you can stay in my sister's old room for a day," he startled her out of her thoughts and she blinked. "As long as you let me know how you're feeling."

A part of her screamed, reminding her that he was a stranger. She turned a blind eye to it. Granted, she could go to Potter Manor, but she couldn't bring herself to look at their pitiful stares.

She stared at him and nodded slowly. "Thank you, Mr. Fenwick."

"Benjy will do. Is there anything else I can help you with?" he asked as he stood up, dusting his Auror robes off.

She pressed her lips together. "Unless you can bring them back, no."

His silence choked the breath out of her and intense disappointment squeezed her heart, tight and lethal.

He offered her a hand and she stood as well, sight blurring as she moved in a daze.

_Weak_, her mind reminded her. Compliments had nothing on her, compared to the worst weakness of all; her weak mind and weak body.

Hermione, herself and her whole existence, had been a weakness.

"You are very strong, Hermione," she heard from behind, and for the first time that day, it wasn't just the delusional voices of her parents.

She waited for him to hold out his arm, welcoming the pull of Apparition as she looked around the broken pieces of her home, one last time.

* * *

**A/N: Please don't hate me? Thank you again for all the support you've given this story! I am very grateful.**


	10. Chapter 10

**January, 1977.**

Hermione froze, memories slammed up in her throat at his presence. Truth was that she hadn't given him much attention then, nor had she thanked him for taking care of her, despite her unkind behaviour.

The young man glanced at her and his face remained impassive, even as he looked over her best friends.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend and for the first time in several weeks, the boys were able to convince her to come with them. Slumped shoulders and head down, she gave no tries in avoiding them any longer, instead she accepted their offer with a sigh.

The outing had done her some good, she admitted. The first place they'd dragged her to was Tomes and Scrolls, enthusiastic to join her, even as she took several minutes between shelves, to check out each book.

No longer bothering to be subtle, they'd also proceeded to buy her a large amount of Sugar Quills, going on about how often she ran out of them. She didn't have it in her to inform them of how much that sugary stuff reminded her of her parents, who would've gone on and on about the effects on her molars.

Now that they were in Three Broomsticks, she realized that she had never expected to run into him again, for no proper reason whatsoever. Not that she didn't want to, of course. It seemed to be more of the way she recalled that day, cringing at her glaring accusations due to his 'purer' blood.

He was not a heavy-set man, but he was still quite muscular and definitely very tall, as he rid of the distance between them in few, long strides.

"Hermione, it's good to see you," he greeted, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. She was used to the boys wearing muggle clothes, but it was still hard to overcome the shock that came with a Pureblood associating himself with anything muggle, clothing and such.

His bright, emerald eyes bore into hers and she cleared her throat, remembering that she had yet to respond. "It's good to see you too."

Her eyes flickered to her best friends, who were trying their best not to look too curious. She fixed James with a stare first, who sat across her, in the corner. "Benjy, this is James Potter. James, this is Benjy Fenwick."

She then proceeded to introduce Peter and Sirius, who were on the same side of James, and Remus, who was sitting right beside her. Once the introductions were done, she heaved a final sigh and took a sip of her Butterbeer.

She relished the warm liquid that slipped down her dry throat, and she set the mug back down. "Feel free to join us, if you want," she offered, unsure on how to act with him. He was still standing by the edge of the table and even if Hermione wanted to, she would've had no other way to make him go away.

Thankfully, there _was_ something she needed to tell him, so she hoped he would accept her offer.

With a nod, he slid beside her and smiled. "It's barely been one year since my graduation, and I miss Hogsmeade weekends already."

"You must be busy with Auror duties," she commented, noting how James perked up at the mention of his profession.

"You're an Auror?" he asked, hazel eyes wide open with clear excitement.

"I am. Are you thinking of being one too?"

Her best friend carded a hand through his hair, messing the black waves of curls further. "Yes," he said, pausing for a second. "My dad's one, as well. But, er - doesn't Auror training take at least one year?" he asked with a confused tilt of his head.

"Ah, yes. Of course, I know about him. He is the Head of the department, after all. And to answer your question, it actually is, but they found that I exceeded too much, to waste my time on it."

At that, his lips pursed, and she thought she saw a well hidden smug smile. Hermione cocked a brow. That seemed to be a _much_ different side of him.

"Must be very good," she muttered under her breath and his eyes flickered to her.

He tilted his head just a little; the same, warm gaze in his eyes. "Did you say something?"

Knowing she had to get it out, or she might lose her nerve, she balled her hands into fists. It was a poor attempt to restrain the grief that waved through her.

"I wanted to thank you for everything that day and the one after, I guess. You didn't have to stay with me, or help me for that matter."

With his tongue poking out his cheek, he looked unperturbed by her speech and replied, "I didn't _have_ to, but doesn't mean that I didn't want to. While the others may have left as soon as they confirmed that you were of age, I find that you needed some presence - even if just a quiet one."

There was no condescension in his gaze, no pity or concern. Only a kind of certainty of knowing exactly what she felt.

Surprised at the thoughtfulness he'd shown — she had been a stranger, after all — she dropped her eyes to the chipped, worn out wood of the table. "Right."

She felt like all eyes were now on her, a set that she knew didn't belong to one of her best friends. A hot flush rose to her neck and she played with a few strands of hair, hoping that would somewhat keep their attention away from her warm skin.

Under the table, Remus placed a comforting hand on top of her leg, in hopes to distract her from - well, _everything_. For once, she was glad to be in midst Quidditch fanatics, who quickly began to share their favourite matches in history with the newly acquainted Auror.

.

When time came for them to go back to Hogwarts, they began their walk back to the carriages with heavy, tired feet.

Her and Sirius stayed in the back, and for the first time, she thought back to that day with slight confusion. She knew he'd been about to say something important; her memory was all too clear from before Professor Mcgonagall's entrance. His eyes hadn't gleamed with mischief and that was one way to tell how much he'd prepared for it. He wasn't one to often be careful with his words.

The silence ate at her curiosity and while he didn't avoid her—no, he continued to stay by her side as soon as she arrived back at Hogwarts—he also didn't give any mention of what they'd talked about. There was a chance he'd forgotten about it, just like she had.

"Sirius," she hesitated and was unsure why. "What were you about to say, that day?"

She couldn't read his expression, even as his mercury eyes bore into hers with . . . _caution_. There was something else in his silence, but Hermione pushed back the old suspicion with her recently found indifference - one she'd gained several weeks ago.

When her name was called out, she was too busy looking behind her, to catalogue her best friend's expression. She found Benjy jogging towards them, and when she glanced back at Sirius, his eyes caught hers, a burning stare held. "It was nothing." She thought she heard an edge in his voice. "Go ahead - we'll wait for you."

She had never seen Sirius look so uncertain before, but she still hurried to meet the Auror midway. He let out loud breaths once he caught up to her.

"Aren't you supposed to be fit?"

He straightened up at that—she was very aware of his gaze on her—and scratched the back of his head, full of dark brown waves. "Do _you_ think I'm fit?" he shook his head and continued, "Never mind. I just wanted to remind you that my offer is still up."

Rifling through her memories, Hermione remembered the last thing he'd said to her when she was about to leave his house.

"_If you ever want to train, I'm willing to help you out._"

She hadn't replied to it, most probably due to how numb her mind had felt at the time, but now? She didn't need further convincing. She'd heard whispers of a group; formed to fight Voldemort and his followers, even though she had to graduate to join it.

It still didn't mean that she couldn't _prepare_ for it. How else would she help others, if she didn't know how to protect herself first?

"I want to do it," she told him, lips pressed into a tight line and eyes fixed with determination.

Benjy shot her a gentle smile; one that managed to chip the ache in her chest away. "Good. I'll owl you the details of when and where we can do it."

His voice was soft and she barely realized he was about to leave, until he walked away, a wave over his shoulder as he apparated.

She hurried to catch up to the group, noting how Sirius looked seconds away from blurting out a number of questions. "What was that about?" he asked, giving her a sideways glance.

"Nothing," she replied, unaware of the fact that she'd echoed his answer from earlier.

As they all sat in the carriage, huddled together like a herd of sheep, her mind wandered off to her future defense classes with a trained Auror. He could definitely help her be as good in practice as she was in theory. She hadn't been a much physical person, but it didn't mean that it was too late to change that.

* * *

Sirius shook her shoulder lightly, hoping to be as gentle as possible. It had been a few weeks since the Grangers' death, and even through her impenetrable, Firewhiskey eyes, he _knew_ that she was still hurting.

He understood how she felt. Telling his best friends about it was the second hardest thing he had to do. Looking at Hermione's shattered look was and will probably remain the first.

The moment he'd found out, he grieved as well. Similar to Dorea and Charlus, her parents had made their way to his heart, comforting it with their gentle words and kind gestures. They hadn't hesitated to treat him like a son, ever since he visited their house, the summer after their second year.

Last night, he'd caught her in the Astronomy Tower, automatically wrapping an arm around her with the hopes of his presence comforting her, even if just a little. She'd clutched onto a worn out book with a tight grip, and tears streaked her cheeks; all he could do was brush them away as they splashed down onto his wrist.

For the first time in years, Sirius had felt utterly _useless_. The arrogance in him was gone, replaced with broken pieces of a boy who just wanted his best friend to be okay.

When she'd fallen asleep in his arms, he'd been unable to move her to her dorm without turning into Padfoot, inevitability having her land on his bed as he sat perched on the foot of it, back against the hard wall.

He'd eventually nodded off too, waking up hours later, when Remus asked him about what had happened.

Hermione finally stirred, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Finally - I thought I had to take drastic measures to wake you up."

She peered at him through her thick, long lashes, her face rid of any emotion. "What's going on?" she asked, barely managing to cover a yawn with her hand.

"We have class, that's what," he swiftly replied, resembling more Hermione than himself. He liked that — the fact that if they were to switch roles, the other would still be able to deal with things properly.

"Okay," she mumbled before closing her eyes again, muttering something about how tired she was. Frowning, Sirius pulled the blanket away from her, not giving her a chance to grip it tightly and keep it to herself.

Sirius slipped an arm under her thighs and another around her waist, with no complaints of having to carry her in bridal style.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, her arms around his neck.

He looked down at her, flyaway curls covering most of her flushed cheeks. The chestnut tendrils danced at each step he took. "Making sure you get ready," he muttered, jaw tight at the ardent feeling that throbbed in his veins.

It'd all been perfect — he'd all but almost confessed that day, not thinking twice of it happening in detention, dirt covered on both of their faces.

But when she came back to Hogwarts, numerous days later, the thought didn't even cross his mind _once_; he was much more focused on making sure she was alright.

So when Hermione mentioned the conversation again, he just _couldn't_ say it. He was a coward and he didn't think it was a good time, especially after she'd gone through so much. She needed her best friend first.

As for confessing his feelings, he could do that later, when she felt much better.

Not that he liked waiting, he thought darkly. When Lockhart had asked her out, he hadn't felt too threatened because - well, it was _Lockhart_.

But when he saw that Auror . . . Merlin, Hermione just _had_ to be ahead of everyone with being a year older as well, making her of age.

He didn't blame Fenwick. No - she _was_ Hermione, after all. The depths of her personality ran deeper than just being smart and responsible. She had her moments, where she could be ridiculously oblivious, or mischievous, or _everything_.

Even those looks of hers were special, like the one that took over her face whenever she was wrote an especially long essay on a hard topic. He knew that a challenge in her studies thrilled her, no matter how difficult it may be.

Shaking himself out his thoughts, his grip on her tightened and with his foot, he pushed the ajar door to the bathroom fully open, finally easing her upright - right in front of the large basin.

He pointed at her toothbrush—she always kept an extra one in their bathroom, for some reason unknown to them, even _Remus_—a sharp look on his face.

"Okay?"

Lips set in a tight line, she jerked a nod and he gave her one last glance, before he made his way back to the dorm, waiting patiently for her to get ready.

Potions class could wait.

* * *

They were late, or _very late _as Hermione continued to repeat frantically. They slipped past the doorway, entering the classroom with heavy breaths. Godric, they'd run too much for a Monday.

Slughorn glanced at them, interrupting whatever speech he'd been giving. "Sirius, my boy! And Miss Granger, it's good to see you. As much as I hate to, I'll have to take points away from you for being late," he rambled on with that cheerful tone of his.

Sirius looked over at Hermione, who looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but under the stares of everyone. With a swiftness that had him surprised, he did the only thing he could think of.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I confess I spent far too much time dreaming of potions," he told the man with a mocking tone, one that Slughorn overlooked—all because of him being a Pureblood—and everyone else laughed at.

Once dismissed, he proceed to plop down in the seat beside James, who clapped his back with a shit eating grin. Either Evans had given him the time of day, or he'd made it to breakfast in time for a large amount of treacle tarts; no one could look _that_ happy.

They were making a random potion that he hadn't bothered to listen for, when the Slytherins seated close to them began to talk loudly.

"Heard about the mudblood's filthy parents, Travers?"

His hands stilled, just like a set of four others had. Even as he kept his eyes trained on the low fire he'd lit below his cauldron, he knew that the boy in question had a slimy smirk on his face.

"D'you think Granger saw how muddy their blood was?"

"If she didn't, I could show the mudblood how filthy hers is."

"Sirius," Remus began, like he already knew what he was about to do, but it did not matter—Sirius launched himself at Travers, landing a hit square between the fucker's eyes.

"You piece of shit!" he roared, scrambling to land another punch on his crooked nose, when he felt arms grabbing his torso, keeping him away from the boy that staggered back and fell on the ground.

"Sirius, that's enough," he heard Hermione's voice from behind and froze, just in time to see Slughorn making his way towards them, eyeing the group with concerned eyes.

"_What happened here_?"

* * *

Despite her fondness for the Professor, this was the last place she wanted to be, right now. Especially after Sirius received an earful for punching another student in the face, that too for the whole class to see.

"Have a biscuit, Hermione."

She looked up from the small, gray table in between them, eyes now trained on Professor Mcgonagall's dark brown eyes. The sight of them shining with tears brought her back to an unwanted memory, one that she would rather not think about. "Professor—"

The woman put her hand forward, wiping her tears with a handkerchief. "I apologize. I'm supposed to be comforting you, but . . ." she trailed off, readjusting her thinly framed glasses on the bridge of her nose. "How are you feeling, Miss Granger?"

"I'm fine," she replied automatically, wavering only when she received a stern, pointed look. "I — it feels like something is missing, right here." She placed a hand over the faint beat of her heart. It had been a long time since she acknowledged that it was there.

"Did you know I was married, Miss Granger?"

"No, I did not," she admitted, eyes wide at the revelation. She didn't know why, but she'd always believed her professor to be they type of person who wouldn't even like the notion of getting married.

"He was my former boss from the Ministry, Elphinstone Urquart. I still remember with much embarrassment, how he'd proposed in Madam Puddifoot's. I denied at the time and several more occasions that followed, as my heart belonged to another man," she paused and cleared her throat, looking away from a brief moment.

"When did you accept his proposal?" she asked, restraining her curiosity in a soft tone.

"After a few years, when I felt that my heart was finally freed. It was during a stroll in the Hogwarts grounds, right there." They both looked over to the large windows, showing the massive territory, now covered with a light blanket of snow.

She waited for Professor Mcgonagall to continue with the story. She'd have never told Hermione anything, if it wasn't to make a point at the end.

"He died from a Venomous Tentacula bite, three years later."

Her hands shook as she peered at Professor Mcgonagall over the rim of her cup, too focused on searching the older woman's gaze to care of spilling any drop of tea.

"I'm sorry, Professor."

The Head of Gryffindor gave her a rare, warm smile. "What I want you to know is that, while you may never stop missing them, that hole in your chest _can _be filled with the presence of other loved ones."

Her sight blurred through unshed tears, and she gave her professor a slow nod. "Thank you, Professor. I - I needed to hear that."

They went back to sipping their tea, as a new pensive quiet descended on the room, with each person thinking their own thing.

* * *

She blinked as Peter came running towards her, a panicked look on his face.

"Hermione! Sirius has gotten himself into a duel!"

Her mouth hung open and for a moment, she doubted she'd heard him right. But the way his eyes darted around nervously and he was inching to run to Professor Mcgonagall, it got her out of her stupor and she immediately asked, "Where is he?"

"The Training Grounds! Hermione, I have to tell Mcgonagall—"

She didn't bother waiting for him to finish his sentence, rushing to the entrance before Sirius could get in any more trouble.

As she got closer to the group of four that had formed — Sirius and James against Travers and Montgomery — she looked at the wands drawn with panicked eyes. Hermione wasn't sure who'd started it first, but it was clear that the two Slytherins were enjoying it, with the taunting looks on their faces as they talked to Sirius.

Her feet began to move on their own, desperate to reach her best friends. No one had yet to notice her, not even when she saw the words form around Traver's mouth and her blood run cold with shock. Then Hermione was running, her shoes pounding the biting, cold snow. The desperation in her chest brought forth an immense energy—one she hadn't thought she owned—and she pushed Sirius away, the sheer force bringing them both to the ground.

She felt hot scrapes somewhere along the skin of her hands and legs, and in her peripheral vision, she was sure she'd seen a green light blast above them, hitting one of the large trees lined up behind.

Professor Mcgonagall's voice rang across the grounds, but she kept her focus on the boy below her.

"You utter _arse_!" her voice wobbled as her eyes filled with tears. Her hands gripped his shoulders tight, straddling him as she sat up. "I can defend myself. You just don't go do this — looking to get killed for it."

He made a small noise in the back of his throat, and his hands shot up to grab her hips. "Dying wasn't really in my plans today."

A sob of frustration slipped out, her eyes watering; her breath still caught in her chest. "_Sirius_." Her voice came out like a whisper; even she could barely hear it.

He moved his hand to brush her hair back from her eyes, and laughed a little. It sounded nervous and jittery, no matter how hard he was trying to hide it from her. "I'm fine, Hermione. I'm _alive_."

It was silent. Not another word uttered between them as they stared at each other. A breath parted from her lips; he was alive.

* * *

**A/N: Mcgonagall's story is kind of altered, as she didn't marry Elphinstone until Voldemort was defeated. Still, I hope you liked the update! I would love to hear what you think.**


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